


Red Crown

by wreckofherheart



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/F, Friendship/Love, Nightmares, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-03 10:58:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6608152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreckofherheart/pseuds/wreckofherheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Master Skywalker's training demands more than Rey previously assumed. Battling against the seduction of the Dark side is no easy feat, as well as coming to terms with her past, and her current fate. </p><p>At least she has a good friend to guide her.</p><p>[Jessika/Rey]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> Since I wrote my Jessika/Rey oneshot last night, they are pretty much all I've been thinking about. I was hesitant, at first, to actually write a chaptered story on them. However, after the wonderful response I received for my other story, I decided to give these two another go.  
> This is set directly after TFA, and will mainly revolve around Rey's past and her attempts to battle against the seduction of the Dark side. With a good friend to comfort her.  
> Once again, the way I've written Jessika is what feels right to me. On first impression, she is defensive as her work demands, but, like Rey, she only means well. I hope the sequels to TFA focus on this lovely character more; she could be a great friend for Rey! She needs a girlfriend or two, after all.

In passing, they have communicated. A brief wave, nod of the head. On a good day, there might be a smile. They know each other’s names. It’s hard not to. Such a small community, everybody knows everybody. They know that one is a Jedi Padawan, the other a full-trained pilot. However, the Padawan spends most of her time with Poe, and the boy from The First Order. Still unconscious. 

   All too soon, the Padawan leaves, in pursuit of her Master. She is gone and fled, and it is clear General Organa feels her absence. After the loss of Han Solo, perhaps it is expected the General might find something in the Jedi. She was there when Han Solo was killed, Sabre stabbed through his chest. She saw his death occur before her eyes, and that is enough for the General to feel _close_.

   Or, maybe it has something to do with the Force.

   They understand each other in ways _normal_ people cannot. 

   ‘Rey,’ Poe had answered. ‘That’s her name. Like a ray of sunshine.’

   A week passes. Finally, the boy from The First Order wakes up. From afar, she watches how Poe comforts him. Rests his hand on his shoulder, strokes his cheek, assures him that Rey is safe. She will be back soon. The boy is wide-eyed, confused, frustrated but he hears Poe, decides to believe him.

   The Resistance soon fall into threat. A couple of _TIE_ fighters are patrolling the grounds not too far from the base. Initially, the General keeps a close eye on them. Best not to attack first. She won’t risk the consequences, but her best pilots wait for her order. After several hours, the _TIE_ fighters move away from the base, until they’re no longer on the radar. Poe worries they might return.

   Of course, he’s right.

   Not only do the _TIE_ fighters come back, but they have three more behind them. They’re up to something, and it leaves Poe unnerved. With the General’s permission, he takes a small X-Wing, and asks Jessika to accompany him. They hope to make the mission quick. To be back before dark. 

   ‘Can’t I come?’

Jessika turns her head to the boy from The First Order. She frowns at him. ‘Can you fly one of these?’

   ‘I still want to come!’

   ‘Persistent, aren’t you? Stay here, where you’re out of the way.’

   ‘What’s wrong?’ Poe arrives onto the scene, helmet under his arm. He glances at Finn. ‘Pava is right: stay here. I’ll be back soon, okay?’

   She notes how he says _I_. _I’ll be back._ The boy from The First Order steps back, seems to accept the situation, and allows both Jessika and Poe to prepare themselves. Jessika observes Poe while he slips on his helmet, how his typical enthusiasm to fly has disappeared in this moment.

   ‘We’ll take them out. All of them.’

   Because, at heart, he is not a killer; to destroy something, anything, is difficult. Jessika nods. She, herself, doesn’t feel so sympathetic. Her whole life has been The Resistance. She was _born_ into The Resistance, trained to be a pilot from the age of three. All of this, it just comes naturally to her. 

   And while it does come naturally to Poe, as well, he has a softer heart.

   Kinder heart.

   The _TIE_ fighters are not expecting their arrival. It is almost disturbing how easy they are to wipe out. Poe is a genius at the controls. His aim is flawless, and no pilot in The Resistance matches his skill. Jessika comes as a close second to his brilliancy, though, and, together, the mission is finished in only two hours.

   ‘Let me wait. Just in case anymore return.’

   Poe narrows his brows. ‘Are you sure? I can wait too.’

   ‘No,’ Jessika smiles. ‘Besides, your friend misses you.’

   Both of them agree only Poe goes back. Jessika lands her X-Wing out of sight, sits atop of the vehicle, and removes her helmet. Her view is surprisingly generous, and she is given the scope of the land beyond. This afternoon, the sky is a dark red, a warm, yet deeply troubled colour. One which eases her in a strange way.

   Jessika allows herself a few hours, although she has a hunch no more _TIE_ fighters will be coming back for vengeance. Not yet anyway.

   Evening slowly approaches. Jessika is busy scribbling notes into her diary, when she hears somebody approaching. Dropping the diary, she reaches for her gun, standing atop of her vehicle. From between the trees, she can make out a small figure, getting closer and closer. Garbed in grey, a light sabre strapped to her waist.

   The Jedi.

   Jessika jumps off her X-Wing, and calls out to the Jedi. Rey must have sensed her close by, because she isn’t surprised by her presence. ‘What are you doing out here?’ Jessika stops before her. ‘Where’s the _Falcon_?’

   ‘I didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention,’ Rey replies. ‘Why are you here?’

   ‘Spot of bother, but it’s over now.’ Jessika turns back to her vehicle. ‘Come with me. I’ll return you to base.’

   ‘What kind of bother?’

   Jessika doesn’t answer. ‘It’ll be a bit of a squeeze, but we can fit together.’

   ‘I’ve travelled worse,’ Rey confesses with a smile.

   Once inside the X-Wing, Jessika starts the engine, flicks the correct switches, and then the vehicle leaves the ground, flying east. Their journey is in silence, but Jessika can feel Rey observing the way she manoeuvres the vehicle. Almost studying her even. Jessika enters the base, lands it perfectly.

   ‘I suppose you’ve never been in one of these before.’ She takes off her helmet.

   ‘I always wanted to be a pilot,’ Rey whispers.

   Jessika looks at her. Rey is smiling, but Jessika doesn’t believe it. This girl smiles through her agony, and it’s a sad sight. ‘What stopped you?’ Rey’s smile falters. She meets her eyes, but doesn’t respond. 

   They both escape the X-Wing. Immediately Rey is greeted by acquaintances from The Resistance, before Poe comes running up, pulling Rey into a firm embrace. The two are soon lost in conversation while Poe leads Rey to where Finn is; that boy from The First Order. 

   ‘All clear,’ she reports.

   General Organa thanks her, and Jessika is dismissed. 

 

 

 

There’s a lot to tell. Rey doesn’t know where to begin. Most of her stories are spewed in babbles, but Finn is amazed and horrified and excited all at once, wanting more and more on what it was like to be trained by Master Skywalker. Poe is less expressive. He sits, one leg crossed over the other, listening intently.

   Master Skywalker is a man of few words, but he cares. Deeply. Without hesitance, he took Rey in, trained her, helped her find her way with the Force. Taught her how beautiful both the Dark and Light side are. Why it is so _complex_ to choose either one. How impossible it is for a Jedi to be anything _close_ to human when they are offered the choice of both extremes. There had to be a happy medium.

   So, Master Skywalker invented that happy medium. Attachment may involve suffering, but suffering does not always involve hatred and negativity. Master Skywalker spoke about how suffering can create compassion, forgiveness. Why, suffering was what helped him forgive his own father, what allowed Darth Vader to return to the Light side. 

   The Jedi way was corrupt, polluted and ancient. It needed to be reformed.

   ‘Oh, and also this.’ Rey retrieves something from her pocket. A pink and blue shell, attached to a piece of string. ‘For you.’ Finn opens his hand and accepts the gift. A necklace. ‘I have never seen shells before; only heard about them. Seen them in books. I thought this one was pretty. I hope you like it.’

   Finn stares at the shell, awed.

   Rey looks troubled. ‘Don’t you like it?’

   ‘Sorry,’ Finn gasps. ‘It’s just nobody’s ever given me a present before.’

   Rey’s expression softens. She places the necklace around Finn’s neck, the shell resting at his chest. ‘I’m really glad you’re all right.’ She cuddles him. Briefly. They’ve already embraced multiple times before, but Finn’s affection always leaves her happy. He was the first to really show her what affection is about. 

   ‘I’m relieved you’re back,’ Finn says. ‘Is the _Falcon_ back in one piece?’

   ‘Actually, I haven’t returned it to base. One of your pilots gave me a lift.’ Rey looks at Poe. ‘I can’t remember her name…’

   ‘That was Jessika. She was on the lookout for anymore _TIE_ fighters.’ Rey frowns. ‘Don’t worry. She’s confirmed there haven’t been anymore since we took the others out.’ He stands up, brushes his jacket down. There’s a sense of nervousness about him. ‘I had best go speak with the General. Will you be okay?’

   He is looking at both Rey and Finn, but Rey knows where his main concerns lie.

   Finn nods.

   ‘What has happened while I’ve been away?’ Rey asks when Poe has left.

   ‘I wish I could say, but I’ve been asleep this whole time!’ Finn laughs. ‘I know that pilot. She has a bit of a sharp tongue.’

   ‘Mm,’ Rey gathered. ‘I need to thank her actually.’ 

   She likes the necklace. 

   The colour of the shell suits him. Finn fiddles with it between his fingers when Rey leaves, and he can’t recall the last time he’s felt so at home. 

 

 

 

‘Pass me that bolt, will you?’

Her fellow pilot picks up one from the floor.

   ‘No, I meant _that_ one… No, the other–– _the one I’m pointing at_.’

   ‘She means this one,’ Rey says kindly, picking up the correct piece. Jessika drops her arm, takes the bolt from Rey. ‘Need me to help you?’

   ‘I’ve got this.’ Jessika returns to the vehicle she’s fixing. 

   Rey comes over, and admires Jessika’s work so far. ‘Problem with the engine?’

   ‘Keeps stalling,’ Jessika mutters, more to herself than Rey. She didn’t actually answer Rey’s question, and the young Jedi has no choice but to watch Jessika finish her work. She accidentally scalds herself. ‘Ow!’ Drops her tool into the engine. ‘Great.’ She waves her injured hand. 

   ‘I’ll get it for you.’

   Jessika opens her mouth to protest, but, in less than a second, the tool is miraculously back in her possession. She looks at Rey with a funny face. ‘So, you’re able to move inanimate objects at your own free will?’

   ‘More or less.’

   ‘Is that what you’ve been spending all those weeks doing?’

   Rey is certain she hears a hint of jealousy in Jessika’s voice. Jessika focusses on the ship again.

   ‘I came to say thank you. For bringing me back.’

   ‘You’re welcome.’ Rey looks at Jessika’s helmet, resting on the wing of the ship. She’s reminded of the one she kept in Jakku. So far away now. ‘Is that all you wanted to say?’ Jessika wipes her greasy hands with a flannel. Rey blinks, looks at her. ‘Haven’t you got other things to worry about?’

   Rey doesn’t appreciate her tone, and she knows when she’s not wanted. ‘Not really.’ She passes Jessika and proceeds out. Jessika watches her retreating form, drops her gaze, and thinks she might have been a bit harsh on the girl. 

   Needless to say, she is a scavenger. A nobody. Outside The Resistance. And Jessika has always struggled with outsiders.

 

 

 

Rey prefers the company of engines. Perhaps it’s because her entire childhood has been _engines_. Finding bits and bobs to parts of a ship, selling them for scraps of food. Building her own speeder in order to get around. Engines, machines; they’ve been her life. 

   So when evening falls, and the night sky filters in through the windows, Rey searches for where the ships are stationed. A helmet has been left behind on the side. Rey hesitates, then picks it up, pulling it over her head, lowering the visor. She sits on one of the wings, cuddles her knees to her chest.

   There was something so romantic about the Jedi life.

   In the storybooks she read as a child, she thought being a Jedi was about royalty. About legends. _Gods_. A Jedi is pure of sin, crime, everything evil and wrong. A Jedi is a calm, satisfied, and peaceful warrior. The Jedi are the peacekeepers, those who protect the gates of Heaven; those who will truly be rewarded.

   Those books failed to mention the Jedi were human.

   They had desires, cravings. They _felt_.

   Rey recalled Master Skywalker’s uncertainty. How he had once been tempted.

   (… and she recalls that too. That temptation. The face of Kylo Ren. How the Dark side tests her, teases her, _seduces her whole_.)

   (How those nightmares just keep coming back.)

   ‘I don’t think that helmet belongs to you.’

   Rey is snapped to her senses. A female pilot is walking towards her. ‘Sorry.’ She takes it off.

   ‘Oh. It’s you.’ 

   Rey’s heart drops when she recognises Jessika. ‘I’ll go.’

   ‘No, no, wait. You can stay. I was just here to collect something.’ Rey watches Jessika proceed to the ship she was fixing before. She picks up a tool kit from the floor, returns to Rey. ‘It’s late.’

   She stops, looking up at Rey, perched on the wing. 

   ‘It comforts me too.’

   Rey raises a brow.

   ‘Wearing the helmet. I don’t know. I like it too. Makes me feel safe.’ She leans against the ship. ‘I would have expected you to be with your friend.’

   ‘I wanted him to sleep.’

   ‘I guess it’s difficult, being around people, when you were distanced from them for so long.’

   Rey is surprised by her statement. But Jessika’s words ring true. 

   ‘When did you decide to join The Resistance?’

   ‘I was never given the choice,’ Jessika replies. ‘My mother worked under General Organa when she had me. I could either be a gunman, or a pilot. Me? I belong in the skies.’ Rey is smiling. ‘I hear you’re a decent pilot yourself. Han Solo mentioned your capabilities before…’ Rey’s smile remains, but she feels that. The way Jessika can’t finish her sentence. Allows it to shrivel and die. ‘He liked you.’

   ‘I liked him.’

   Jessika smiles crookedly, pats the ship. ‘Hey, if you ever want to take one of these out––’ Rey looks at her expectantly, ‘––invite me along as well. See if you’re really as good as they say.’

   ‘I aim not to disappoint,’ Rey teases.

   ‘I don’t doubt that.’ Jessika jumps up onto the ship, joins Rey on the wing. She takes the helmet Rey has abandoned. Rey looks at her. ‘These used to give me neck strain when I was a child. They’re heavy.’ She gives Rey the helmet. ‘Whatever helps you cope.’ 

   Hesitantly, Rey accepts the helmet. ‘The owner won’t mind?’

   ‘No.’ Jessika lands onto the ground. ‘Besides, she’s starting to warm up to you.’ Jessika winks, and then swivels around. ‘Remember to rest, kid. You’re winning a war.’ 

   Rey continues to hold the helmet, waits until Jessika is gone, before returning the helmet atop of her head. She lies back onto the wing, gazing up at the tall ceiling, the vizor shadowing her view. 

   A sense of home embraces her body. She wraps her arms around her waist, cuddling herself, shivering into the cool night. Protected by the helmet, reminded of her tiny shelter on Jakku, a place for her, only she. 

   Waiting, waiting

   waiting

   For a day which will never come.

 

 

 

‘Testor?’

   ‘It’s a nickname,’ Jessika says. ‘A stupid nickname.’

   Rey grins. ‘What does it mean?’

   Jessika snorts. Her eyes glint with amusement. ‘It means witness, if that’s what you’re after.’ Rey blinks. ‘So, as a pilot, you try and avoid getting hit. Lest you die.’ She smirks at that; Rey’s not sure why. ‘I’ve never been hit. Not one scrape.’ It sounds like Jessika is bragging, but she’s not. Her voice sounds heavy. Weighted. ‘They call me testor because my presence is rarely noticed, until I start shooting. _I am witness_ ; I observe the battle.’

   A part of her hopes Rey will catch the joke, but the girl doesn’t laugh. Her gaze drops. 

   The pilot is the one who blasts ships. Kills. Jessika watches the bodies fall. 

   Witness to the battle.

   Rey doesn’t laugh.

   ‘Anyway: it’s a stupid nickname.’

   That, however, does not negate its relevance.

 


	2. ii

Some nights, she screams so loud her lungs ache.

   And then it’ll occur to her that only the darkness hears her pleas. She’ll wake up, panting, sweating, the nightmare shrouding her mind, eating away at her sanity. Her heart will race, ready to _burst_ ; she pictures a mother, one she’ll never know, letting go of her tiny hand, disappearing into smoke. 

   The worst dreams are those in which she is pushed, she is unwanted, abandoned, and all she can do is wail, fight, all her attempts pathetic and fruitless.

_‘You want to hear her voice. Don’t you? I can give you that. I can let you hear her voice, feel her arms around you. I can let you remember your mother; let me teach you. Let me teach you the ways of the Dark side, our beautiful pleasures. So few Jedi have mastered the ability to see ghosts, to enter the realm of the undead. But I can give you that._ ** _Please_** _._ ’

   How she wants it. That life. 

   At least, just so she can understand. Understand why, at such a fragile age, she was _left_. So she can face her mother, father, either one, she doesn’t care, and _ask_. Tell me. _Tell me why_. For what purpose did you give up on me? 

_Why did you not come back?_

   Rey holds herself. Digs her nails into her vest. She holds her breath, and counts the seconds. 

   ‘ _Don’t listen to those voices. You are being called. The Dark side begs for your presence; they are tempting you––don’t give into their seductions, like my father. They shall not give you what you want. All they shall offer you is pain._ ’

   It is his face which haunts her most. Kylo Ren is grinning, and crying, and _pleading_. 

   Rey winces. Grabs her light sabre. Presses it to her breast. _Waits_. A part of her, a part she tries so, so hard to hide, _wants him_. She wants his neck between her hands. _Wants to crush him_. Taste his blood in her mouth. A sensation, a _desire_ , she has never endured until now. A desire which is plagued, possessed by a monster she does not recognise.

   Another part is _incapable_ of going to such extremes. This part is the little girl, abandoned in the deserts, forced to fight her entire life. Scavenging desperately for food, educating herself so many diverse languages; how to defend herself, how to make the starvation less painful. How to cope. How to manage with the idea of being unloved. Of imagining a family which never existed. The part of Rey which still believes in the fairytale of happiness.

   The little girl can’t kill; her heart is too big.

   And the tiny, weak voice which urges Rey to run. Flee. Return to your old life and never look back.

   ‘ _The Jedi way forbids love, but you are not a loveless person. Are you?_ ’

   Rey throws off the sheets. Clings to her light sabre, and stands to her feet. She throws on her jacket, opens the blinds. It is still dark. Dawn has arrived, but the moon remains the dominant orb in the sky. Rey can’t return to bed––to0 afraid by what her mind might tease her with next. She is afraid, she is scared, and suddenly, she’s very alone.

 

 

 

Several pilots return to base early that morning. Rey watches them land their X-Wings perfectly, before stepping out and retreating to their rooms for a much-needed rest. It has only been a couple of hours since she has escaped from her bed, and the dreams continue to knock at her head. She wants some sort of distraction, any kind.

   Her Jedi senses recognise a familiar presence to the right. The last pilot to leave is climbing down from her vehicle, helmet in her hand. Rey walks over to her, ‘May I hold you to that offer you gave me the other night?’

   Surprised at her approach, Jessika stops halfway down the ladder, and throws Rey an inquisitive look. ‘Be careful what you say, Jedi. People will start to talk.’

   ‘To fly,’ Rey is desperate now. ‘I need to fly.’

   Jessika blinks, and her expression changes. This is the first time Rey has seen her look concerned. ‘On your own?’

   ‘No. No, I really––I would really like some company.’

   ‘You came to the right person, then!’ Jessika gestures her head towards a larger vehicle, one which will fit a whole crew. ‘I’ll be your co-pilot. The General won’t mind if we take her out for a little spin.’ She’s joking, but Rey is too troubled to identify the humour. Jessika meets the ground, looks at Rey. ‘You’re pale.’

   ‘I’m always pale.’

   Jessika chucks her helmet to Rey, who catches it. ‘For comforting reasons,’ she smiles. Rey doesn’t put on the helmet, but keeps it on her person while Jessika signs the correct documents in order to take the required vehicle out. Rey admires the ship: it is significantly smaller than the _Millennium Falcon_ , yet does possess similar features. It looks sturdier, has a more pointed front, and is much younger. Jessika returns, ‘Apparently, we’re in need of a few pieces––I’ve been ordered to Tatooine.’ 

   Rey recognises the name, although she’s not sure why.

   ‘It shall only be a couple of days travel.’ Jessika doesn’t wait to see whether Rey wishes to come along or not. Not that she would need to. Rey follows Jessika into the ship, and Jessika adopts the role of co-pilot, deciding to give Rey a chance at piloting the ship. 

   She’s in for a pleasant surprise. Rey doesn’t ask any questions, and immediately gets the ship up and running. In a matter of seconds, they’re out of the base, and on their way. Without any trouble whatsoever. Perhaps Rey isn’t as dull as Jessika previously assumed. Once they enter hyperspace, Jessika is left a little more at ease: this mission will go smoothly.

   The journey shan’t take too long. However, as a pilot who is usually involved in combat, Jessika finds the whole sitting around part quite tedious. Not Rey, though. She leans back in her seat, and finally feels relaxed. There’s something about a ship, being able to enter a different realm, where they are untouchable, which distracts her from the constant torment.

   ‘Have you ever been?’

   Rey diverts her gaze to her companion. Tatooine. Rey shakes her head.

   ‘You might feel more at home there. The heat gets quite unbearable.’ It’s not an insult. Rey is still sure she has heard of the place, though. But from where? Jessika looks away. ‘Myth has it that Darth Vader was born in Tatooine. A miraculous birth.’

   Rey nearly corrects her. Anakin. Anakin Skywalker was the boy who was born in Tatooine. 

   Now she knows why she recognises the planet’s name. 

   ‘Master Skywalker came from there as well.’ Jessika is watching her, but Rey doesn’t meet her line of gaze. ‘He was adopted, but his parents were killed, and he went on to become a Jedi. He said he always felt destined to be one, but it took him a long time to really understand what a Jedi really was. He had to save his father in order to realise.’

   ‘I never knew him,’ Jessika admits reluctantly. ‘Not personally, anyway. He disappeared soon after I became a pilot. I was quite an admirer.’

   ‘Was?’

   Jessika smiles kindly. ‘It doesn’t matter. So: are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?’

   ‘What…?’

   ‘Not many people come rushing to me, desperate to get away.’

   Rey turns forward. ‘I’m fine.’ She doesn’t like the way Jessika is looking at her; as if she’s an open book. 

   Completely vulnerable. 

   Jessika softens her expression. She leans over, ‘I know what it’s like: being forced into something you’re unprepared for. Most of us were forced into things in order to win this war. You’ve had no training, you come from sand and scrap: I don’t expect you to come out of all of this okay.’ Rey blinks, frowns. ‘I don’t mean to offend you. I’m just…’ Jessika falls back into her seat, ‘… making conversation,’ she mumbles,deciding to close the subject.

   However, Rey is aware of what Jessika is implying. Her fingers remain on the controls, but she’s still, immobile and staring into the unknowing. Rey swallows. ‘I understand,’ she says quietly. ‘I do not come from a place of means. I am reminded about that everyday, but where I came from shaped me. Made me who I am. I know I came from sand and scrap, as you put it, but that is all I’ve known. And that’s fine; I am fine in myself.’

   And she misses Jakku. She might associate that place with abandonment, the end of her childhood; a life of terror, but Jakku was home. _Is_ home. 

   Jessika is silenced. Wisely, she doesn’t speak. Not for a while anyway. In fact, she decides to leave Rey to her own devices, and so exits her seat, wanders down to the cargo hold. Rey stays put, doesn’t think too much into Jessika’s departure. She wishes they had never gone onto the topic of Jakku, wishes she hadn’t defended herself, because all she can think about now is Jakku.

   Had they come back?

   Her family. Have they come back since she’s been gone? Rey looks down at the control panel, and considers diverting from Tatooine to Jakku. Go against the General’s commands. For her own selfish gain. _She has to know_. Will they have come back, discovered Rey has gone, and leave, never to return? Has it all gone to ruin?

_Go back_ , a voice whispers. _Go back to your family, your loved ones. Go back to the life you have dreamed about all of these years._

   Rey’s hand trembles, thinking her options.

   It is within her power to do that. To go back. _Just to see_. 

   Then she feels a presence behind her. Jessika has returned, hovering in the doorway, watching. Rey’s hand falls. 

   ‘What’s stopping you?’

   Rey’s mouth is dry. She can just imagine Master Skywalker’s face––his disappointment. 

   ‘Fear.’

 

 

 

_I am scared. Scared of my past desires. Scared that I might allow myself to fall. I am scared that by going against everything I hold most dear, I am becoming more and more less like myself. I am scared, and I am scared of losing control._

_I am scared of the dark._

 

 

 

Tatooine is hot. The climate is rich and polluted. Dust and sand dances around the pilot and Jedi as they search for the shop to collect their pieces. Rey strays a few inches away from Jessika, and she imagines a younger Master Skywalker living here, she imagines a younger Anakin Skywalker living here, walking across the deserts, blind of his future.

   A beggar pulls at Rey’s jacket. An alien demands Rey buy his fruit, and a creature that resembles close to a human is pushing meat in her direction. Desperate to sell. 

   Rey is reminded of Jakku. She can relate to this kind of life. Searching for rubbish to sell, in dire need of food, a home. She stops at one of the market stalls which is selling various tools to fix machines with.

   There’s a voice. Calling her. _Rey? Rey! Rey!_

   A voice she hasn’t heard before. A youthful, deep voice, belonging to a man she’s never met.

   ‘Rey?’ Someone’s hand lands onto her shoulder. Rey turns. Jessika is growing impatient. ‘It’s dangerous to hang around. Come on. We’re nearly there.’ Her hand slides down Rey’s arm, brushes her fingers, and Rey follows.

   The shop is made out of sand, and is more of a hut than anything. Once they enter, it is a human who welcomes them inside. He sports a goatee, and strokes it constantly while Jessika browses the items available. Rey studies him. He’s the nervous kind, watching Jessika’s every move; his eyes occasionally flick to Rey.

   The light sabre strapped to her hip.

   ‘Ah, a Jedi.’

   Rey looks up at him. 

   ‘I have not met a _Jedi_ in years. Let alone one so _young_.’

   ‘This is what I am looking for,’ Jessika interrupts, placing a cylindrical item onto the desk. The man is pulled from his reverie and happily sells the object. 

   Before the two can leave, though, the man speaks. 

   ‘Wait!’

   Jessika is irritated, but Rey expresses a much calmer response. She turns. 

   ‘Let me see. The light sabre you hold.’

   ‘That is not of your concern,’ Jessika grabs Rey’s wrist.

   ‘Was it not a boy who carried the same weapon?’ He asks, looking at Rey, and only Rey. ‘An unfortunate fate brews the one who possesses such a horrible thing.’

   Jessika pulls Rey back.

   ‘Let me see the light sabre, Jedi.’

   ‘Hold on,’ Rey whispers to Jessika. The pilot tenses, but does as Rey wishes. Her hand continues to hold her wrist, though. Just in case. Rey turns to the man. ‘What do you know about the one who previously owned my light sabre?’

   ‘Oh? That one? The orphan? Nothing. His father, however––he was a beautiful sort.’

   ‘Anakin?’

   ‘Yes.’ He smiles. ‘I’m no Jedi, but I have lived long enough to know the devastations of the Jedi path. A powerful Jedi is only a corrupt one. They are controlled by their fear, their anger, their lust. Tell me: isn’t that what you endure too?’

   Rey doesn’t answer. 

   ‘Little girl. Abandoned. Your whole _life_ has been carved around this idea of being _wanted_.’

   Rey drops her head. Makes a motion to leave. 

   ‘I can redeem you from your trials. Give me the light sabre.’

   ‘I can’t do that. It is mine.’

   He outstretches his hand. ‘If you continue to posses that item, I cannot promise your future will be a kind one. It is slowly killing everything good about you.’ Subconsciously, Rey takes the light sabre, holds it close. ‘Let me relieve you, Jedi.’

   ‘I think we should go back,’ Jessika whispers. Rey notes the tremor in her voice.

   Rey doesn’t say a word. She turns, and the two of them leave the shop. They walk quickly, or, more accurately, Rey does. Jessika is still holding her wrist, and Rey doesn’t hear her questions. _Who was that? What was that all about? Are you okay? Rey?_ The ship comes into view. Rey’s heart is in her mouth, and her legs move faster.

   Inside the ship, Rey reaches for her light sabre. Clutches onto it.

   Jessika pilots the ship, and seems just as eager as Rey to get off the planet. Once they’re gone, far into the reaches of space, Rey rests the light sabre onto her lap. _Relieve me?_ Nobody has spoken to her like that, not with such convincing words. The Jedi way. _Doomed_. 

   Only the best Jedi are corrupt.

   Lost in their deceit. 

   ‘I’m sorry.’

   Jessika. Rey blinks, looks at her.

   ‘I had no idea that would have happened. Are you okay?’

   ‘Yes,’ Rey murmurs. Jessika is looking at her light sabre. Rey returns it to her belt. ‘Did you find what you wanted?’

   A little perplexed by her question, Jessika nods. ‘That doesn’t matter.’ She pauses. ‘I imagine you don’t know that man?’

   ‘I don’t think so.’

   ‘Rey?’

   ‘I’m fine.’ She’s not fine. ‘I’ll be okay.’ She won’t be okay.

   Jessika flicks a switch to auto-pilot. She doesn’t hesitate––leaves her seat, comes over to Rey, and kneels down beside her. ‘What was he trying to say to you?’ Rey doesn’t want to answer, doesn’t want to speak, but she can’t deny she’s haunted. Maybe it was a mistake to come along on this trip. Maybe it was destined she would.

   It takes a moment. Brief. Then, Rey is looking at her, and smiling. 

   ‘Nothing. Just a warning.’

   ‘Is that what was bothering you? Before? All of that nonsense about an unfortunate fate?’

   Rey can’t sustain her smile. She can’t lie. Company has become overwhelming, and she wants her own privacy. Rey stands, and Jessika follows suit. They look at each other. Jessika is aware of Rey’s hand back on her light sabre again.

   As if something might come in and swipe it away.

   And what then? The end of the world? 

   ‘I don’t think it’s nonsense,’ Rey sighs. She presses her fingers to her temple. ‘I think it all makes sense.’

   Leaving Jessika in the cockpit, Rey retreats to one of the bunks, allowing herself a few minutes to her thoughts. She sits on the edge of the bed, grabbing her light sabre again, studying the weapon, neatly settled in her palm.

   What could be _relieved_ from her.

   Did Master Skywalker not warn Rey about this sort of thing? That she will be tempted, that she will be eaten alive––if she doesn’t _resist_. 

   Rey can’t imagine what it must have been like. To be absorbed into the darkness, so quickly, so _violently_. So desperate to keep everything in place, to have what he wanted, it was only a matter of time until he turned to the only thing that made sense.

   Corruption.

 

 

 

_Some nights, she screams so loud her lungs ache._

_Fire. Slowly tiptoeing across her skin, burning her flesh, scorching her eyes. She is cloaked by an inferno. She is an angel, whose wings have turned to flames. Burnt and tortured and blinded by a light––_ so bright, so **bright** _on her eyes she can’t see anymore. The light keeps pushing her back, further back, until she’s falling._

_Falling._

_Falling._

_Someone catches her. His voice whispers soft words in her ear, like that of a lover._

_‘Come back. Let me show you the darkness.’_

_And the sky is overturned. Blackness covers her sight entirely. She is attacked, invaded; all of the light has been stolen. Now, she is on her knees, gasping, crying, and then––_

_––warmth._

_Love._

_Happiness lifts her. Joy sparkles her mind, and she’s laughing._

_She is the happiest girl who ever lived. She feels sublime, she feels beautiful, she feels powerful, she feels complete._

_‘Let me show you.’_

_Rey is grinning, laughing, and nothing else in the world matters._

_And in her hands, in her arms, is the corpse of her dearest friend. Suffocated and gone. And she holds him, rocks him, and the world around her crumbles, disappears, destroyed, and she’s alone. Everything around her disappears, and she’s being dragged away, her tiny feet can’t handle the force, the amount of pressure, and she’s dragged, and she’s screaming and trying trying trying––_

_––bodies of her closest fall around her._

_Poe, Finn, Luke––_

_Their faces are an infection; she screams out_.

 

 

 

Rey yells. 

   Irrational anger makes her body shudder. She grips onto the edges of the bed, sits upright, and curses internally. 

   No, no, _no… don’t do this to me._

   The light is switched on. Someone comes over, sits on the bed, and finds Rey’s face. Rey blinks awake, realises she’s been holding her breath, and lets out a long exhale. 

   ‘What did you dream about?’ Jessika is asking.

   Suddenly, she’s all Rey can look at. Suddenly, she’s the only thing, person, that will calm her, and Rey reaches out. Touches Jessika’s cheek beneath her fingertips. She’s real. Alive. 

_Breathing_.

   A dream. 

   Rey drops her hand, clenches her fists.

   A dream.

   ‘I don’t want to be alone,’ Rey regrets speaking. Tears sting her eyes, and she roughly wipes them away. 

   Jessika hesitates. Shuffles closer. ‘But, you’re not.’ She pulls Rey into a gentle embrace. Rey stills, inhales, and buries her face into the crook of her neck. She wants to hide, disappear, she wants to vanish. To never exist. Jessika tightens her embrace. ‘Talk to me?’

   And there is _so much_. So much to talk about.

   From the tiny, bruised infant, dehydrated and limping in a land of sand. From an orphan, who gazes up at the sky in pathetic hope. To this broken, _tragic_ warrior, who really has nothing to lose. Who has an entire world, an entire galaxy, resting on her small shoulders.

   Jessika pulls back, only to look at Rey’s face. To see her.

   ‘I heard you cry out.’ 

   Rey widens her eyes. ‘You did?’ She’s not embarrassed, not ashamed.

   Because somebody heard her.

   Somebody listened.

 


	3. iii

Morning. Although, in space, one can never be so sure. Rey has been sitting at the controls for the past two hours, trailing her thumb over her lip idly. Since Jessika comforting her down in the bunk, Rey has felt invaded. Not in the most negative sense, of course, but Jessika is the only person, _ever_ , to have witnessed Rey in such a situation.

   Perhaps it all stems down to her childhood. 

   Tears don’t win any fights. So, Rey never cried. Not even when she was beaten by bandits, or treated unfairly. In fact, Rey can’t remember the last time she ever _truly_ wept. The idea has always been forbidden; _she_ has been forbidden to cry. Because if Rey cried, then that would be it: her defences would be down, and she will be vulnerable. Easy prey. Allowing herself to become vulnerable is fatal.

   But she allowed herself. That one time. With Jessika holding her, _she allowed herself to be vulnerable_. And it’s a shock. Afterwards, Rey was amazed, stunned, shaken slightly that she had been so _revealing_. Even with Finn, Rey struggles sometimes with how attached they are. Friendship––it has always been a fantasy in her mind, until now. Until she is overwhelmed by people who care about her.

   ‘Rey?’

   She turns in her seat. There before her stands Jessika, holding a hot drink. Rey raises her brow inquisitively. 

   ‘Try this,’ Jessika offers Rey the drink. ‘My mother used to give me this when I was little. It helps calm you down.’

   Rey blinks. Wonders if there will ever be a day when she’s not surprised by somebody’s hospitality. ‘Thank you.’ Jessika sits down beside her, and Rey sips hesitantly at her drink. It’s bitter, but warm. Feels like silk down her throat. Immediately her temperature rises; she feels the heat in her cheeks, and then, just like that, Rey realises there is nothing at all to be worried about. Everything is okay.

   ‘Better?’

   In response, Rey simply smiles. Jessika smirks.

   ‘This is the first time I’ve seen you look so relaxed. You’re way too tense.’

   ‘I don’t think that’s something I can help,’ Rey mumbles absently. She sips her drink again. Jessika turns away, puts her feet up onto the control panel, closes her eyes. And, for a moment, Rey thinks she’s gone to sleep.

   Gazing into the murky liquid, Rey is quiet, restful. It’s a good while until the silence is shattered, although gently. Jessika reports they will be home within the next three hours. Rey’s heart sinks to her stomach, and she doesn’t know why. It isn’t the idea of going back to base with worries her.

   In fact, she wants nothing more than to see Finn again.

   Maybe it’s deeper than that.

   Maybe it’s what waits for her. _Who_ waits for her. 

   This demand to be powerful. To be brilliant. Everybody expects a Jedi out of her, but Rey has so little to give. 

   Rey drinks some more, but the remedy has lost its effect. Reality is a cruel and dominating thing; one which refuses to leave her alone.

   ‘Who is Ben?’

   Rey turns to Jessika. ‘What do you mean…?’

   Jessika hesitates. Then: ‘In your dream, you called out a name: Ben. I just wondered who he was.’

   Only one Ben comes to mind, and Rey feels her insides twist. 

   ‘Sorry––if you don’t want to talk about it…’

   ‘No, I… I don’t…’ Rey sits upright. She isn’t looking at her. She feels sick. Heavy. She feels everything wrong. Like spiders crawling under her skin. ‘There’s only one Ben I know, but I’d never…’ Rey frowns.

   Would she, though?

   Call out his name? Rey presses her lips together. Shakes her head. She places her mug aside, looks at Jessika, regrets doing so. Rey isn’t very good at the whole “opening up” thing, but it’s been a while, a _long_ time, since anybody has watched her with this _look_. Mixed with curiosity and concern and something else Rey is not familiar with.

   Jessika can’t imagine the life of a Jedi, but she has studied Jedi Law, been so fascinated in the whole idea; she knows more than the average person. But Rey is more than _just_ a Jedi. She started her training at an unusual age, like Master Skywalker. What’s more, she is one of the last of her breed.

   Rey is something else. She didn’t walk in wearing robes and a sabre; she wore rags, cuts and bruises, and a frighteningly youthful face. And Jessika doubts Rey has really considered that. At the end of the day, Rey is who she was born as: an orphan, a nobody, a scavenger without an ally beside her.

   It’s sad. Almost heartbreaking. 

   ‘There was another Ben,’ Jessika tries. She can’t stand Rey’s frustration. Clearly the name _Ben_ is associated to something horrid, and so Jessika tries: ‘He was a Jedi, and he taught Master Skywalker.’

   Rey inhales. ‘Obi-Wan Kenobi?’

   ‘Oh? So, you know?’

   ‘I don’t. I don’t know.’ _I don’t know anything; nothing at all_. But she knew that name, even if Master Skywalker never mentioned his teacher. Now, there seems to be a reason. Rey turns to her properly. ‘Kylo Ren’s birth name is Ben; I was… I thought it might have been him I was calling out to. But… I don’t know. I don’t.’

   At the mention of Kylo Ren, Jessika visibly tenses. A scowl curls her lips, but it vanishes quickly. ‘Do you dream about him?’

   ‘Sometimes.’

   Jessika doesn’t react. ‘Why?’

   ‘I wish I knew.’ Rey presses a hand to her cheek. ‘They aren’t nice dreams, though.’ She stops. Jessika is listening, waiting, and Rey hesitates. She could tell her, tell her what she dreams about, why they disturb her so, or she could stand up, walk away. Forget this entire conversation ever happened.

   Rey’s heart skips a beat when Jessika takes her hand. It is no more affectionate than it is comforting. Her index finger trails softly across Rey’s palm, and it takes Rey a moment to realise Jessika is reading her; identifying the lines over her skin, the little marks, what has made her so sore.

   Then, Jessika intertwines Rey’s fingers with hers. Looks into her eyes, and smiles. ‘I have bad dreams too.’ It’s actually cute, how she wants Rey to think they’re on the same page. That she is capable of understanding. ‘Not as often now. But, when I was a kid, I would have nightmares about this dark-robed figure, wearing a mask––he would come and hunt me. And it was the way he breathed, as if suffocating inside that mask he wore all the time.’

   Rey’s expression softens. 

   ‘I still am scared about that man in my dream. I get scared of anybody wearing a mask. So, if you get scared about dreams, then at least you’re not as pathetic as I am.’ 

   ‘I get scared about a man wearing a mask too.’ Rey drops her gaze to their hands. Moves hers slightly, reaching for Jessika’s pulse. It beats slowly; calm. Rey can feel her heartbeat, the blood rushing through her body; can feel her breath. Her gaze. ‘But, I also get scared I will _be_ that person wearing the mask. One day soon.’ She pauses, lowers her voice to a shy whisper. ‘I dream about losing my mind.’

   Jessika clutches Rey’s hand tighter. ‘What tempts you? About the darkness? I’ve never understood how anybody would want to turn to such evil. But I’m not a Jedi, so I wouldn’t know.’

   ‘I wish I could answer,’ Rey replies. Her shoulders slump. ‘I think it’s the freedom. The liberty to be human: to have whatever you wish, to be merited for your work. To be able to form attachments, to have a family, to love.’ Rey twitches a smile. ‘It’s what everybody wants: happiness.’

   ‘But…’ Jessika has loosened her grip. Touches Rey’s palm with the tips of her fingers, then around her wrist. ‘… That happiness is a lie.’ She looks at her, wide eyed, searching. ‘It _is_ a lie, isn’t it?’

   Rey swallows. Tries to nod. But she can’t. ‘I wish it was that clear to me.’

   They pause, breathe together. Jessika moves her hand away, reaches over, touches Rey’s cheek. She curls a strand of hair behind Rey’s ear, and hovers there a moment, and she really can’t imagine this girl turning to a corrupt realm. It isn’t Rey; Rey might be tempted, but Jessika is _certain_ she would never, _ever_ cross to the Dark side.

   As wonderful as it might be.

   Rey is momentarily paralysed. Jessika’s eyes are quite like space itself: dark, and full of an unknowing; and yet, they sparkle a little. They’re alive, and wandering and kind. She exhales slowly when Jessika’s hand falls.

   ‘Well,’ Jessika says, ‘You can, at least, let me help you.’

   A little taken aback, Rey can’t help but smile. 

 

 

 

Poe is thinking about the next step. 

   She almost admires him for that: his optimism. That there is, indeed, a next step. That progress is happening and this war will be a success. And maybe once she would have thought the same. What is the next step?

   But, to Jessika, there can’t be a next step when their only hope is still behind. Still trying to catch up. Still trying to decide which path is best for her: the Light, the Dark, or neither––a life far away, scavenging through abandoned ships in Jakku. Returning to the life of an ordinary; unwanted and forgotten.

   Poe is watching her, proud, when she mentions Rey’s condition. Not explicitly, out of respect of Rey’s privacy, but obviously enough for Poe to understand. Jessika doesn’t reveal a great deal. Almost urges Poe to stop for a moment. Consider his allies. Perhaps the best way forward is through hesitating; action isn’t always the only option.

   He places a hand on her shoulder, squeezes. As is relieved he isn’t the only one who cares.

   Later, Jessika visits the bar for a quick drink. Not many pilots are awake at this hour, and she only orders a pint, eager to leave and head to bed. At this hour especially, she prefers her own company, and while she finishes her drink, she finds herself distracted. Thoughts of Rey, her sweet smile, what it must be like––to be a Jedi, unwillingly. To have victory and vengeance thrust upon her. For a fate determined.

   It is similar. Born into The Resistance, groomed into a soldier. Fighting for justice.

   They aren’t so different.

   ‘Can’t sleep?’ She asks, sliding over her drink to Rey. She arrived only minutes after Jessika.

   The Jedi is quiet for a while. She glances at the drink. Then at Jessika. ‘I don’t drink.’

   ‘You don’t drink?’

   Rey shakes her head. ‘Too manipulative over my senses.’

   Jessika smirks. ‘Only a Jedi would say such rubbish.’ She finishes her drink. ‘So: can’t sleep?’ She knows. Of course. Of course she knows, but she wants to hear Rey admit to it. She wants Rey to open up, trust her.

   As long as it takes.

   Rey inhales, exhales. ‘I’m a little scared too.’

   It’s enough. Jessika places her glass down, pushes it away. ‘Afraid the monsters will creepup from under the bed?’

‘Something like that.’

   ‘Did you ever wonder if you’d be able to defeat those monsters?’ Rey cocks a brow. Jessika is grinning. ‘I think, as you grow older, the monsters don’t go anywhere, but you learn how to live with them.’ She shrugs. ‘It’s okay to be afraid of the dark.’

   ‘I keep hearing the same voices, seeing the same faces.’ Rey eyes the empty glass. ‘I’m afraid this is definite. I’m a Jedi. I’m not supposed to fear anything. I should be immune to nightmares. That’s what I thought anyway.’

   Jessika brings an arm around Rey’s shoulder. Shuffles closer. ‘You know, you don’t have to be anything around me. If you’re scared of going to sleep, then I’ll stay with you.’ Rey pulls a puzzled expression. Nervously, Jessika laughs. ‘What I mean is, you can sleep with me. If you like. I won’t go to sleep until you do.’

   A part of Rey wants to run. Fast.

   Another part, a bigger part, wants to pull Jessika into the tightest embrace and never let go.

   ‘You’d do that? For me?’

   Jessika shrugs. As if it’s nothing. As if this sort of gesture is normal and common and expected. As if Rey has enjoyed such pleasures her entire life. Rey breathes, looks at her, smiles and that’s her answer.

   The two of them leave the bar, and with her arm still over Rey’s shoulders, Jessika leads Rey to her bunk. The majority of the time, the two are silent. Rey and she strip to their vest and undergarments. Jessika’s roommate has already fallen asleep, and so the two quietly slip into bed together.

   At first, there are a few minor adjustments. Rey’s arm not in the right place, Jessika’s leg tucked uncomfortably, and they share a few giggles in their awkward manoeuvre. But, in silent agreement, Jessika presses close against Rey’s back, allowing the girl her own room to breathe and rest. 

   The whole while, Rey is aware of Jessika pressed to her. She smiles faintly, eyes fluttering shut, and she feels herself sink into the mattress. Jessika’s warmth bounces onto her body, embracing her whole, and then, finally, Rey is _relieved_. She is okay. She will be okay. _It will all be okay_. 

   She wonders if this is flying.

   This haven. To stop. To pull free from her chains. To be wrapped up in somebody else’s safety, other than her own. 

   Rey turns to face Jessika, and her soft breath tickles. Rey scrunches her nose.

   'Why a pilot?’

   Jessika opens her eyes slightly. ‘The danger, I guess. Makes me feel alive.’ 

   ‘It sounds lovely. To fly away….’

   Jessika winces. Wraps her arms around Rey’s waist and pulls her in. Keeps her close. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. I really am enjoying writing this story, and it would mean the world to me if I knew your thoughts. If possible, please do leave a kudos and/or comment! Thank you very much :)


	4. iv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say a quick thank you to everyone who has left a kudos and/or commented. It means so much to me, and has honestly inspired me to write more about these two. Don't ever underestimate the power of feedback!

Four pilots are despatched. 

  A rescue mission. One of their allies has been held captive by The First Order; a highly-esteemed Lieutenant in which The Resistance would be at a great disadvantage without. General Organa is a silent, yet wise commanding officer. The whole time, she stays by the radar, speaking to her pilots through radio transmission. 

  Passing the border between ally and foe requires not only skill at the controls, but also courage. Enemy base is up ahead. Subtlety and play is key. They are able to deliver a fake identification to enemy base, fooling The First Order into believing their ship has arrived to deal with maintenance. For the most part, the mission is successful. The ship lands, and only two pilots escape, armed. They disguise themselves in white armour; troopers.

  The disguise works. They split up. The General orders them in which direction they should head. 

  Rey stands beside Poe, watching the blinking orbs on the radar. Successfully, The Resistance have managed to obtain details of enemy base; the amount of storeys, the prison cells, where best to avoid. The entire fort is displayed on the screen.

  The General says nothing for a while, waiting for a query, or for the next order. Her pilots are trained, and intend to return to base, Lieutenant in hand, within minutes.

  ‘You okay?’ Poe asks.

  Is it that obvious? Rey nods. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ Poe doesn’t answer. Rey lowers her head. 

  This morning, she felt her absence; a cold empty space beside her. And, stupidly, Rey had reached out, hoping her senses had deceived her. They hadn’t. Jessika had been ordered by the General to appear, and by the time Rey finally woke up, Jessika was no longer on the same planet. It hadn’t upset Rey, not necessarily; she’s used to abandonment.

  But maybe that’s just it.

  Feeling abandoned. She doubts Jessika had any intention to _leave_. She had no choice, but Rey can’t help that sinking sensation. The sort of doubt, fear–– _tragedy_ she had to suffer her entire life. However, General Organa is in charge. Nobody in their right mind would disobey her orders. The rescue mission was put forward, and all four pilots sent out.

  One of them is Jessika. The one currently inside enemy base, searching for their missing Lieutenant. 

  Rey wishes the General had ordered her to stay with the ship.

_Wishes_. 

  ‘General?’ Jessika’s voice echoes the room, and General Organa responds immediately.

  ‘Testor. Talk to me.’

  ‘I’ve found our man.’ Everybody sighs in relief, glad, but Rey is still tense. ‘Permission to return to base, ma’am?’

  ‘Granted. Come home.’

  Poe reaches for Rey’s hand, squeezes. But Rey doesn’t notice. She recalls a Jedi trick Master Skywalker taught her; the ability to sense another’s movement, no matter how far away they are. To see as they do. Master Skywalker warned Rey to never abuse this ability, and since learning the technique, Rey has never needed to use it.

  Until now. 

  It isn’t difficult. Rey focusses on Jessika, her presence, her voice; focusses on the image of her, and, just like that, she’s conscious of the other girl’s steps. The pace of her heart, her pulse, how fast she breathes. 

  Whether it is fear which causes her to move quickly, or a genuine eagerness to return.

  The Lieutenant, Rey feels, is right beside her––they’re heading back to the ship. General Organa orders the other pilot to return as well. And it’s fine. It’s all fine. Jessika is close to the ship, and the Lieutenant enters first and then––

  Suddenly, the radar glitches, and the transceiver lets out a harsh, ear-splitting screech.

  ‘What’s going on?’ General Organa demands.

  There isn’t a response from the other end. Rey’s breath catches, and she loses track of Jessika, of the Lieutenant, of anybody. She swallows, looks at General Organa frantically. Poe has noticeably tensed. The General orders her men to try and get back their signal, to figure out what has happened. A technician reports this glitch is only temporary.

  Finally, a voice. It isn’t Jessika’s. 

  ‘Stormtroopers attacked. They saw through us, General.’ 

  Rey finds Jessika again. The weight of the gun in her hand, the warmth spreading across her shoulder blade. Blood. Rey blinks rapidly. The voice returns, says they’re heading back, but with casualties. The General orders medical assistance to attend to the crew the moment they arrive, and Rey feels tempted to ask the pilot about the Lieutenant’s condition, about Jessika. 

  Because Rey felt that.

  The bullet. How the laser shot straight through her skin, into her bone.

  ‘We should meet them halfway,’ Rey insists. The General glances at her, stoic. ‘They need medical attention, protection––I can meet them halfway and––’

  ‘That won’t be necessary. Trust me, I sent out several of my best pilots. They have coped with this level of danger before.’

  ‘They’re hurt!’

  ‘Rey,’ Poe says gently. ‘The General knows what she’s doing. Don’t worry; she’s right––they have dealt with worse.’

  Avoiding the General’s puzzled expression, Rey holds her breath, decides to _stop_. She doesn’t know what that was all about. Why her stomach feels so clenched up, why her hands are shaking. Why she cares so much about something which is so small; about something which is nothing. Just a minor accident. That’s all.

  It will be okay.

  Rey calms down. Apologises to the General. 

  Then she is dismissed.

 

 

 

What makes her retch isn’t the blood. It’s the pain. A laser is electrifying, _burning_. She didn’t see the trooper who fired, but out of all the crew members, the trooper hit her square on. Which is typical. She should have been more wary, shouldn’t have waited until the Lieutenant was safely in the ship, shouldn’t have observed, just to be certain the coast was clear.

  Stripping off her jacket, the only medical assistant on board checks her injury.

  ‘My main concern is infection,’ he says. ‘We will get you fixed up as soon as we land. The General has doctors waiting.’

  ‘How sweet of her,’ Jessika groans sarcastically. Her companion smirks, covers the wound with a temporary bandage. A huge bruise is developing over her skin, surrounding the bullet hole, and within minutes, Jessika struggles to move her entire arm. It feels dead, as heavy as stone.

  The pain subsides, and the more is subsides, the more faint she feels. 

  It is a weird, yet comforting sensation. One she kind of likes, but knows this only means bad news.

  Seated and resting up against the wall, she watches the medic prepare a drug to ease the agony. He comes over with a frighteningly large needle. 

  ‘Oh,’ Jessika murmurs, grinning lazily, ‘Must be my birthday.’

  ‘Enough with the jokes, Testor. Move onto your side for me.’ With slight difficulty, she obeys; feels the needle pierce her skin. The pain vanishes instantly. Jessika sighs, head meeting the wall again. She could really do for a sleep. ‘Whatever you do, don’t go to sleep.’

  She pouts. 

  The medic continues. ‘If you go to sleep, there’s no promise you will actually wake up. You won’t die, but you would fall into a coma for decades, and undoubtedly die in your sleep.’

  Jessika raises a brow. ‘Excellent bedside manner.’

  ‘Do you always try to be funny when you’re close to death?’

  Jessika snorts. Closes her eyes. Opens them again. ‘I’m a funny girl.’ He stands up, sends a message to base. His voice is mere mumbles, illegible words, all mashed into one. Jessika twitches. She’s beginning to feel sick, unpleasantly so.

  She half wonders if Rey would laugh at her silly humour.

  Half wonders how Rey felt, waking up to an empty bed. And she’s not sure why she suddenly cares. Because although it was hard to leave the warmth Rey provided, Jessika knew her duty, didn’t think much into the situation.

  Friends are hard to find amidst a war. Jessika imagines seeing Rey again, saying sorry, can imagine Rey forgiving her easily. Like she seems to do with everybody else. 

_Poor kid_ , Jessika thinks, _To not understand hate._

 

 

 

The ship lands. Three of the pilots on board are injured, and taken to medical. Rey isn’t present when the crew return, but as soon as she hears about their arrival, she rushes in search of Poe, hoping he may have answers on the crew’s health. On one specific person as well. She doesn’t find him with the ships, doesn’t find him in the bunk.

  It is Finn who catches her searching. He knows the base better than she does, and she escorts her to medical bay. Down several flight of stairs, deep underground, where the lights are too bright, the walls coated in a blinding white. Finn sees Poe before Rey does. Comes over to greet him with an enthusiasm Rey hasn’t seen before from him; not in a long while at least.

  Poe is smiling. Optimistic. That soothes Rey. ‘I wondered where you both were,’ he says. He turns to Rey. ‘The crew are fine. Stable. Our Lieutenant is fortunately unscathed and walking around quite happily. Our pilots Shaw, Francis and Pava are stable too.’

  ‘Can I see her?’

  ‘Not yet. Even I’m not allowed to see them. Testor is in a slightly more worse condition. Infection is hard to fight.’

  The colour in Rey’s cheeks drains away. Finn frowns at her. ‘You worried about her?’ Poe presses his lips together, aware of the situation. Rey opens her mouth to protest, but her attempts are fruitless. Finn cocks back his head, then chuckles knowingly. ‘That’s all right. I’m pretty worried too. We’ll wait together.’

  ‘Sounds like a good idea,’ Poe says. ‘I shall be with the General, if any of you need me.’ He passes Rey, taps her arm in a form of affection. As if he knows, as if he understands. _Yes, I have been in your position before_. 

  Finn and she sit down together in the waiting area. Rey watches another visitor. She has a baby resting, pressed to her chest. Protectively. Their eyes meet, and Rey smiles a little. Looks away. The waiting game. 

  She knows that one too well.

  Rey is an expert at _waiting_. Except waiting only results in _nothing_ ––waiting is foolish. A weak, pitiful hope that good shall happen. Rey has waited her entire life for a miracle, and she thinks, this time around, if this is worth waiting for––if she shouldn’t just find a doctor, ask what’s happened. For once, Rey just wants to be _informed_. 

  To be told what is happening.

  Is that truly too much to ask?

  An hour passes, and Rey––always patient, always understanding––tries a different tactic. 

  Finn calls out to her in surprise when she stands, the mother holding the baby watches while Rey leaves the room. A doctor is passing, and before Finn can stop his friend from doing anything silly, she reaches for the doctor’s arm. He halts, turns to her, wide eyed.  

  ‘I want to know the condition of Pilot Jessika Pava.’

  The doctor clears his throat. ‘Sorry. I can’t tell you yet.’

  ‘Rey. Come on,’ Finn tries to usher Rey back into the waiting room.

  It’s a brief moment. One in which Rey focusses entirely on the doctor’s eyes, his mind; she _eases_ herself into his span of thoughts, and then, voice blunt: ‘You will take me to Pilot Jessika Pava.’ The doctor stirs. 

  Blinks. Nods his head. ‘I will take you to Pilot Jessika Pava.’

  He turns sharply on his heel, leads the way. Rey follows. An awe-struck Finn hesitantly walks a few inches from Rey. ‘What was that?’ He whispers, but Rey is too focussed on the doctor. On his intentions. Which way he is going.

  ‘You will also grant me access to her medical reports.’

  ‘I will also grant you access to her medical reports.’ The doctor willingly gives Rey the folder in his hand.

  Finn laughs in exasperation. ‘That is so cool!’ 

  ‘Shh,’ Rey opens the folder. Two of the reports are on Shaw and Francis, to which she skips and hungrily searches for Jessika’s report. Once in her hand, she quickly reads through. Just as Poe said, she is stable, but the infection has unfortunately spread. Rey drops her eyes to the bottom of the paper, closes the folder. 

  They arrive at the ward. One of the patients is somebody Rey doesn’t recognise, although he wears the uniform of The Resistance pilots. She guesses he must be either Shaw or Francis. He’s sitting upright, and is shocked at Rey’s entrance. Before he can let out a single word, Rey motions her hand diagonally. The pilot shuts his mouth, lies back into bed.

  Finn is beyond confused now, but seeing Rey throw these Jedi mind tricks everywhere is too exciting! 

  The patient Rey wishes to see is conscious. A heart monitor _beeps_ beside her, and a nasal cannula is placed above her upper lip. Rey doesn’t spot the damage until she’s closer. A white bandage is wrapped around Jessika’s chest, up and over her shoulder. She still wears her orange jacket, although the undershirt beneath has been removed.

  ‘Visitors already? I _am_ popular.’ The doctor stops at Jessika’s bed. The young pilot looks up at him in puzzlement. 

  Rey comes over, relieved, heart in her mouth. ‘You’re okay,’ she says. Jessika forgets about her doctor, and meets Rey’s announcement with a grin.

  ‘Of course. I hope you weren’t starting to worry about me, Jedi.’ She glances at Finn, who hovers a little away. ‘Who’s your friend?’

  ‘Finn,’ Rey stands upright. She’s still smiling. It’s cute. Adorable. _So very like Rey_. Jessika is actually flattered she has a friend who cares so much about her wellbeing. But her flattery is cut short when Finn steps forward. ‘We met on Jakku over a year ago now. Finn, this is Jessika.’

  ‘We’ve already met,’ Finn says, ‘But, I’m happy to reintroduce myself.’ He offers a hand to shake.

  Jessika doesn’t accept his invitation. Rey narrows her brows. 

  ‘Thanks, but don’t take offence by the fact your _history_ puts me off.’ Finn flinches at that, and lowers his hand. Rey senses his anger spike. Jessika isn’t angry, but she’s firm, and all affection has been swiped off her face. ‘What do they do to you there? Snatch you from your mother’s breast and mould you into a monster?’

  ‘Not all of us,’ Finn retorts, voice hard. ‘Are you seriously going to blame me for a past I had no control over?’

  ‘Brainwashed you. That’s why you didn’t have a choice.’

  ‘I did. Eventually. Hence the reason I saved Poe; hence why I escaped with him. If you have a problem with me being here, then you’ve got your enemies and friends all mixed up.’

  ‘I may not be as nice as Poe, but don’t mistake his hospitality as trust: you were born into The First Order. You’re an offspring of The Republic, and it will take longer than a year to get over that.’

  Rey is hurt. Hurt that Jessika is blaming Finn for absolutely no reason. Yes, he was a stormtrooper. Once. Yes, he had lied to Rey about who he was, _but Finn is a good person_. That is why she likes him, why she trusts him. Because he has a heart. He has a soul. And a loving one at that. He was the first, and _only_ person, to know her properly.

  And, yet, Jessika’s words are like spears in her chest.

  Rey feels betrayed. 

  ‘I’ll go,’ Finn mutters.

  ‘No, please––’ Rey grabs for his hand, but Finn backs away. He glares at Jessika, softens his expression slightly for Rey. They don’t exchange further words, and she watches her best friend leave the room, a defeated man. When Jessika’s doctor speaks, Rey interrupts him coldly, ‘Get out.’ The doctor responds obediently.

  Jessika chortles. ‘You should use that trick on Kylo Ren; that’ll bring an end to this war.’ She smiles crookedly, and finally looks at Rey.

  Looks at the damage.

  Jessika’s smile falls. Her expression hardens. ‘Call me irrational, but somebody had to say it.’

  ‘Say what?’ Rey gasps, bursting with anger, sadness, disappointment. Pain. ‘Finn is a _good_ person. He has always been _good_.’

  ‘His history will prove otherwise. That boy is a murderer.’

  ‘And you’re not?!’ Jessika glowers at her, but Rey speaks first. ‘You, too, have been born into an army. You call yourselves The Resistance, because that is _exactly_ what you people do: _resist_ , and the only way you can resist is by fighting. By ridding the enemy; through killing.’

  ‘Rey…’

  ‘If we’re going to talk about history, then why not see me as anything more than a scavenger?’ Rey catches herself. ‘Wait: you already do.’

  ‘That’s not fair. You might have come from that kind of life, but you grew out of it.’

  ‘Grew out of it?’ Rey laughs, bewildered. ‘I still am that same person. Scrounging around looking for food, for a friend––counting the days until my mother will finally come back to rescue me. And here’s the thing: I _still_ wait. I can’t grow out of it. I never will. I may know a few fancy tricks, but I’m…’ _Nothing. I’m pathetic. I’m alone._

  I am still scared to sleep by myself.

  I am still scared of the monsters lurking under my bed.

  I am still a child.

  Jessika is silenced. A thousand words, sentences, confessions, apologies, yells are running through her mind, but _nothing_ is getting out. She holds back. Restrains herself, because perhaps Rey is right. Perhaps Jessika is wrong.

  And that’s hard. Admitting fault, when throughout your entire life, you’ve been ordered to know that everything you do, every life you take, is _right_. 

  Excusable.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Rey whispers, overwhelmed. 

  Jessika nearly wants to cry. 

  That after everything, _Rey_ has to say sorry. Her fault or not, _Rey is the one who apologises_. Apologises for herself. For her words, for losing her temper. So afraid of doing wrong, she says _sorry_. 

  Someone is approaching the ward, and this time around, Rey doesn’t have any energy left to control the situation. She drops her head. Runs her hand through her hair, and seems to wait. Wait, just in case Jessika has a retort, has a reasonable argument to make, but not another word is shared between them.

  And somehow, that silence as Rey escapes the room, is louder than the scream desperate to burst from her throat.

 

 

 

_Bodies fall. Littered across the floor. Like dolls. Disposable and pointless._

_They are flung aside. And his face is a distorted mess of masks and darkness and scars and joy and a calmness she can only envy. He asks her, again, and again, and again. Asks her to come forward. He beckons her with his metal hand, fingers delicate._

_And she’s moving towards him. Closer, closer still._

_Can_ **_feel_ ** _her power. How it absorbs her whole, how amazing she feels, how_ **_wholesome_ ** _._

_She is a Goddess, a supreme warrior, and the entire galaxy will drop to their knees at her splendour. They will worship her, love her; all the planets and moons will turn to her, and_ **_only_ ** _her. She will be the centre. The sun. Everything will revolve around Rey, and it is everything she has ever wanted._

_The darkness floods through her veins, claws at her precious head._

_Finn is yelling, pleading, tears pouring from his eyes, and, for some reason, Rey can’t hear him. She is delirious, so utterly delirious, and she can hear Luke begging, begging, begging for her to return. But how can she? How can she when she is finally perfect? When she is finally loved? When the galaxy lies in her soft palms, and she is brilliant. So brilliant._

_The light sabre flashes with red. Grinning and glaring and shuddering in her hold._

_She could fly. Soar, spread her wings, and_ **_disappear_ ** _. Become immortal. She_ **_is_ ** _immortal. She can have whatever she wants, and more. She can see her mother, feel the warmth of her mother’s touch, be welcomed, accepted again._

_Yes. Oh, it is perfect. Exactly perfect._

_And she turns, with winged ankles, and her sword effortlessly pierces the girl’s flesh. Jessika gasps, wide eyed, and her horror strikes. Rey blinks, and then it occurs to her what has happened, the blade in her hand, how the blue sabre has cut through Jessika’s skin, gone through her stomach._

_Like magic._

_Then the world turns dark, Jessika falls into Rey’s arms, and all the light in the world is drowned out. Rey gasps, lets out a cry, suddenly, suddenly, suddenly alone. A deserted, little soul––_

 

 

 

Rey is awake. Not a noise escapes her. The room is stuffy, and the moon’s light filters through the blinds. The world is desolate. 

  She pulls the sheets close, scrunches her eyes shut. Hot tears pour down her cheeks, like a scorching river.

 


	5. v

_‘Can I get another, please?’_

_The barman returns with Jessika’s second pint. Poe hasn’t touched his drink, and she has half a mind to nab it from him––waste not want not. Both pilots have only just returned from delivering a message to an ally several galaxies away. It nearly took them half a year, but with the message delivered, and with the comfort of a larger army expanding, Poe thinks the entire endeavour was worth its while. But, despite this, he doesn’t drink._

_Poe eventually moves, propping himself on one elbow, and gazing idly into the glass. His fingertips littered across the surface. ‘Did you hear what happened to Polo?’ He murmurs. Jessika pauses, swallows slowly, and turns to him. The last she heard from Polo was nearly a year ago, and she never really considered her wellbeing._

_Not since_ **_then_ ** _at least._

_The morning she decided to end their relationship, start afresh. An end which left Jessika feeling free and relieved, but Polo disgruntled and bitter. Poe isn’t aware of the precise details of the breakup, nor does he necessarily care. As long as Jessika is left fine, then that’s what matters––she is one of his closest friends after all._

_‘Ship crashed into a TIE fighter.’ Finally, he raises his glass to his lips. ‘Died immediately.’_

_Jessika blinks. ‘You decided to tell me this––why?’_

_‘To remind you about the fragility of human life, Testor. I was beginning to worry you might have forgotten.’_

_She gives him a look. ‘You doubt me too much, Dameron. It’s unkind.’_

_‘Well, maybe it’s better to be unattached. I know for a fact that’s something I struggle with.’ He inhales deeply, holds his breath. ‘Do you feel anything? About her?’_

_‘No,’ Jessika replies._

_Poe nods. ‘Death has never really bothered you, has it?’_

_‘Where do you think I got my dumb nickname from?’ Poe twitches a smile, but she notices his sadness. While he doesn’t really mourn for Polo specifically, he does mourn for the pilots, gunmen, the soldiers who have fought and lost their lives. Regardless of how close Poe was to them. Jessika thinks that is why he is such a highly-regarded pilot._

_The man cares deeply for his allies, so much so he is willing to give his life in exchange for their protection._

_That is where they differ. For Jessika, at the end of the day, it is every man for himself._

_‘Don’t you miss it?’_

_‘What?’_

_Poe smiles fully, eyes enchanting and drowning with life._

_‘Falling in love?’_

 

 

 

No. No, Jessika does not miss the sensation, and has avoided it for years. Love is a trap. The way into somebody’s soul, their heart, the very thing that makes a human vulnerable. During a time of war, love is a fatal weapon. The last thing she wants, last thing she _needs_ , is to give somebody the key to that gate; to allow them to ease her into an inevitable tragedy.

Poe loves easily. That much is certain when he approaches her, while she’s still recovering from her mission, and loses his temper. And Poe _never_ loses his temper. They have known each other since they were children. The one time Poe grew angry was when he was just thirteen-years-old, and a friend of his had been bullied. She can’t recall any other time.

But when it comes to Finn, to how Jessika dealt with him, Poe can’t _handle that_. 

‘I can’t sit back and allow you to treat him this way.’

‘I told him bluntly the circumstances of our situation. I don’t trust traitors, regardless of which side they’re supposedly on.’

‘Finn is one of my best friends! I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him.’

Rolling her eyes, Jessika pulls out the nasal cannula. She hates the bloody thing, and it’s causing her more disadvantages than advantages. ‘I get that, Dameron. But I also know what you’re like: you’re soft and sweet. You let people in too easily sometimes, and that’s the reason you get hurt. Maybe I am coldhearted, but I can’t work beside that boy––he belonged to The First Order. He was _born_ into The Republic, and that automatically makes him the enemy.’

Poe opens his mouth to protest, but he stops himself. Sighs. Then collapses into the chair by her bed. Jessika is surprised by his giving in, however she knows he hasn’t surrendered entirely just yet. There is more to say, more than he is letting in on.

Of course, Poe calms down; he can’t be angry for very long. He looks at her with a familiar fondness. ‘You’re too fierce for your own good.’ It’s a compliment, but also a criticism. Jessika wants to retaliate, but has to admit, there’s logic to his observation. ‘I am almost certain you gave Rey quite a scare when you both talked properly.’

Jessika’s heart skips a beat. She blushes slightly at the immediate reaction. Hopes Poe doesn’t notice. ‘She told you that?’

‘It doesn’t matter if she did,’ Poe shrugs, ‘But, you warmed up to her eventually, didn’t you?’

‘I––’ Jessika stops. Squints. ‘What are you trying to say, Dameron?’

‘You gave Rey a chance. Give Finn one too. He’s actually a genuine, honest person once you know him well.’

‘Sounds like you’ve got a bit of a crush.’

Poe stiffens. Jessika grins. ‘Careful,’ he smirks, ‘Don’t think your interest in Rey has passed me by.’

‘Interest?’ Jessika scoffs. ‘I like her, but she’s…’ _Troubled_. She is nothing like anybody Jessika has met. She isn’t a black-and-white person; not either riddled with madness, or possessing a heart too big for her chest. 

Rey is more. A small girl, trapped in an inevitable fate she has no control over, and it is _that_ which makes Rey such a tragic, yet beautiful woman. Stubborn, headstrong and walking into fire willingly, to save a population she has never met before. Not like Poe or Jessika have. Rey has been alone her entire life, and, now, suddenly is expected to save the world.

The galaxy, even!

And yet, despite her courage and heroics, she still feels the need to crawl into bed with Jessika, and ask to be held.

So afraid of the night sky, so afraid of her own insanity.

Jessika realises what an idiot she was, talking to Finn in that manner, when Rey was standing _right there_. To think, how many friends does Rey have? Jessika is willing to admit the two of them are somewhat like friends, and, to Rey, that’s good enough. But for this somewhat like friend to turn around, and bully one of Rey’s closest?

A mistake has been made, but Jessika still believes she’s right.

Rey is so pulled by the Light and Dark, sometimes the poor girl doesn’t know where she stands, and it’s as if nobody is out there to guide her. To take her hand, and show her why the Light _is_ perfect, just the way it is. Why improvement isn’t necessary, why it is okay to desire the impossible. And Jessika hopes, eventually, Rey might learn that some of the things we desire are natural.

And they ought to be satisfied. 

‘She’s afraid to be human,’ Jessika shrugs. ‘That’s what Rey is.’

‘Rey is young,’ Poe says. ‘She’s only just turned twenty. Do you really expect her to be wise and knowing by this point?’

_I expect her to not feel so scared. I expect her to not require a companion when she goes to sleep. I expect Rey to feel_ ** _comfortable_ **_in her emotions_. Because so what if the Jedi way is to resist all negative sensations? It is ridiculous to deny one’s own feelings. In fact, surely that only paves way to further complications, to madness, to corruption.

A shiver travels up Jessika’s spine. She has never wanted to imagine Rey following the Dark side of the Force. She always convinced herself Rey simply wouldn’t follow that path. It would go against her nature. But now, Jessika is horrified to discover that Rey’s conversion _is_ possible. She wonders how often those nightmares are, whether she sees The Resistance as another obstacle, whether she actually _does_ consider Kylo Ren’s offer. 

To be taught, to be guided, to be held.

Jessika flinches. The very idea that Kylo Ren––that _demon_ ––would win her over. Somebody of so much wonderful potential, so troubled by her inner conflict, so brilliant and _perfect_. That monster cannot tarnish what she is becoming. 

If The Resistance lost Rey to the Dark side, then that would be final.

‘You might not like the sound of this, but I think Rey, too, is warming up to you. I just urge you not to make the same mistakes as you’ve done before.’ Jessika frowns at Poe, wondering if this is a joke, but he’s sincere. ‘Try not to leave her behind so carelessly.’

Like last time? She wants to ask. And not really with Polo, or the other women she’s been with, but with Rey especially. The fact she had disappeared in order to fulfil a mission, without informing Rey beforehand.

And almost dying while away.

Rey can’t take another. Not another loss. Jessika’s heart squeezes. She looks away from Poe, and nods her head––this time, she doesn’t respond vocally. Because Poe has won the discussion, somehow convinced her that the way she spoke to Finn had been inappropriate. Sometimes, bluntness isn’t necessary in order to get a point across.

Sometimes, _understanding_ is; the ability to sit down, and listen.

 

 

 

A heavy piece of artillery slams onto the table, and Finn jumps in surprise. 

Jessika cringes, and then lets out a little laugh. ‘Oops. Sorry.’ Finn says nothing, but watches her closely while Jessika sits opposite. She slides the weapon in his direction. ‘My father designed artillery to help The Resistance’s cause. This is one of his most superior. He gave it to me before he died, and it’s been unused since.’

‘That’s a shame…’

‘Yeah, well, I’m a pilot. I fly ships. I belong in the sky. But, Dameron praises your marksmanship. You’re rooted to the ground, and we don’t have enough soldiers like you here.’ 

Finn still wears his odd expression, but it eventually sinks what Jessika is trying to achieve. He snorts. ‘Wait, so you don’t have a problem with me now?’

‘I wouldn’t say that, but I’m growing.’ Jessika pauses. ‘Look, give me some credit. This is hard, and I’m only doing it for Rey’s sake.’ Finn raises his brows. ‘Do you want the damned thing or not?’

Dropping his eyes to the weapon, Finn sits upright, and carefully takes it. It is much lighter than he assumed, and fits very comfortably in his hand. The metal is cold, sterile, and glistens. Clearly Jessika has only recently polished it for him. ‘It’s nice,’ he allows.

‘Better than the crap you were undoubtedly given in The First Order.’

They share a glance. This time, it isn’t aggressive. Almost close to friendly, but Finn wouldn’t go that far. ‘Yeah,’ he agrees, ‘I’ll give you that.’ He gently places the weapon onto the table. ‘So.’ Clears his throat. ‘All for Rey?’

‘You can’t shoot pointblank with this,’ Jessika says quickly. ‘When you fire, it will absorb everything within its radius for a few centimetres, so make sure you’re out of range.’

Finn folds his arms, ‘I take it this is your way of apologising.’

A beat. 

Jessika cocks back her chin. Smirks. ‘Let’s go with that.’

 

 

 

The Jedi is called. General Organa feels it too, and she and Rey discuss privately about the sudden, and unknowing occurrence. Poe isn’t fond of being left in the dark. However, he waits patiently for the General’s next orders.

Master Skywalker waits for Rey on Planet Jakku. When Poe asks why, Rey can’t answer. Or, _won’t_ answer. He respects her privacy, and doesn’t delve further into the issue. 

However, as much as Rey won’t speak about it, the more it puzzles her. Master Skywalker very rarely speaks to her through thought––the last time he did so, she was still being trained. Admittedly, Rey’s training is still taking place, but to send her to Jakku… well, Rey can’t know anything until she’s there. So she grabs her light sabre, her jacket, and meets General Organa at the exit to the base.

The _Millennium Falcon_ is stationed not too far from base, but far enough to not create a distraction. Rey insists she will happily walk to where it is located––and she would much rather do this alone. This time around, Finn isn’t willing to let his friend get away without a good bye. She notes the fact he is wearing the necklace she gave him when they embrace.

She wants to ask if Jessika is available, just to say good bye, just to see her once, just to make sure they’re on the same page after their minor fallout. But she looks at Finn, and decides to keep this whole thing quiet.

Anyway, she will be back soon, and Jessika won’t even notice her absence.

‘May the Force be with you,’ the General says, quietly, a secret shared between them. Rey smiles, glances at Finn, before turning on her heel and walking away.

By the time she reaches the _Millennium Falcon_ , the night is starting to break through. Master Skywalker hasn’t spoken to her at all since his calling. Upon entering the ship, she hears a familiar _beep_ -ing noise, and, to her joy, BB-8 comes rolling up towards her. Kneeling down, she places a hand on its head, and smiles.

‘Thank you for waiting.’

BB-8 lets out an exclaim of excitement. The droid rolls behind her ankles while Rey approaches the controls to the ship. Chewie and R2-D2 stayed behind with Master Skywalker on the island, and so it’s as old times were. Just she and little BB-8. A time she nearly misses. At least, back then, things were simpler.

There was just the waiting.

The ignorance of the vast green, and gorgeous skies which lay beyond.

BB-8 makes a small puzzled noise, stopping at Rey’s side. She looks down at the droid. ‘I’m going to see Master Skywalker.’ BB-8 _beeps_ joyfully. Rey nods. ‘You’re right: maybe he has missed us. It has been a while.’

The ship comes to life, and Rey skilfully transports the two of them off land, into the most isolated realms of space. Leaving behind her friends, foes; a girl she can’t really seem to remove from her mind. And the more she tries to forget about Jessika, the fact the last time she saw her face was when they were in an argument, the more difficult it is to erase her.

It is for the best, a part of her says. A part she doesn’t like. 

Even if it makes her eyes sting; the familiar dread, as tears are relieved and left to fall into her lap. BB-8 lowers its head in mourning at the sight of his friend’s grief. Rey sniffles, wipes her eyes, and looks down at the droid.

‘Don’t worry,’ she says, ‘I’ll be okay.’

Because that’s all she has ever allowed: to be okay.

To deny what really keeps her awake at night.

 

 

 

A pilot returns to base the same afternoon, pulls off her helmet, and sits on the front of her ship. She drums her fingertips across the surface of her helmet, and watches the huge doors slowly meet, cutting off any intruders throughout the night.

Abandoning any allies who have gone astray. 

Jessika ignores the disappointment, buried at the pit of her stomach. Ignores how breathing has become a little harder, the anger beginning to spike. 

So, she thinks. This is what it is like. To wake up alone.

Only as a means to hide her face, to not allow anybody to witness her defeat, Jessika slips on her helmet again. Lowers the visor. 

Mourns silently for somebody who was never really hers to lose.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have no fear, folks! This isn't the end. The real meat of the story has yet to approach. Thank you for reading! I hope to continue updating every day in between studies, but we shall see how things progress.


	6. vi

Eventually, Master Skywalker reveals the amount of time which has passed: three months in total. Three months since she left for Jakku, and Rey is astonished. Because, for her, it has only been a couple of weeks. Heavy, long days, filled with mental discipline and nightmares and this horrid reluctance to depart from reality.

  Because, at the moment, reality is Rey’s most feared enemy. Master Skywalker observed the dreams, woken her up, asked her what she had seen. Who she had seen. What is it which causes the horror? Reality. The wait. The apprehension of what is to come. The day she will face Kylo Ren, _finally_ , and then be challenged by the creature named Snoke. And that is something little Rey cannot comprehend.

  The girl is just _one person_. Insignificant, and tiny. 

  Master Skywalker only has a few more lessons. Atop of an isolated dune, he teaches her the art of meditation. But not in the orthodox Jedi manner. Master Skywalker informs her that meditation isn’t simply to be free from the material world. It is more than a mere discipline. Meditation still allows action within the material world; meditation is to allow one’s thoughts to flow, for their actions to be rational; for the agent to think, and think not only for themselves, but for their loved ones.

  The Jedi way is almost selfish; the Jedi way has a _desire_. A desire to achieve an immortal power, to be indestructible, and all-knowing. The desire for oneself to become brilliant. But, the Jedi way is corrupt; needs to be reformed, and so Master Skywalker reminds Rey that when she dreams about those she loves, and when she fears for those she loves, that is perfectly and utterly normal. 

  It is one thing to accept that fear, and another to control it. To master it. To discipline that fear, so it will not control the agent.

  He asks her to think about somebody, anybody, who might stir this fear. Who might appear in a dream, be the cause of her terror. And Master Skywalker wonders if she might think about Ben Solo, or the boy she has befriended, Finn. However, he senses another face in which she pictures; a girl Rey has never spoken about before. A smile tugs at Master Skywalker’s lips, and then he tells Rey that whatever this person makes her feel, be it in a dream, or in reality, then Rey is welcome to embrace that feeling.

  ‘As long as _you_ keep a hold of it; don’t allow yourself to be controlled. We Jedi are human too, but we are riddled by our emotions. Emotions have their place in battle, but lose sight of them, then our actions will be guided by those emotions––so, you need to discipline yourself. To control yourself. Let these emotions come, but don’t let them kill you.’

  Rey opens her eyes. 

  ‘Is that what happened to your father?’

  Master Skywalker nods. ‘Yes.’

  The final day of the third month approaches, and for the first time in so long, Rey drifts to sleep. Wrapped in her rags, the setting sun soft against her skin. Her mind is free and she can breathe, and knowing what she feels is normal, Rey is comforted. Apprehension remains, but the fear has dismantled itself.

  Transformed into something else entirely: a warm, soothing acceptance which runs to her very core.

  But on the final night, her imagination toys with her. Creates and performs a play in her head. One which is so real, so alive, Rey’s body is lifted. Brought to her feet. Rey opens her eyes, and beyond her is a realm of white. She can’t hear, can’t speak, in this realm––and when she walks, her legs are heavy, like stone.

  Rey’s light sabre rests against her thigh. Subconsciously, she reaches for it, surveys the white realm before her; how beautiful it is, how its unknowing seduces her further. She is neither cold or hot. Neither awake or asleep. This place is no longer Jakku, but another dimension entirely. Lost in the fabrics of her own mind.

  Then she hears an infant cry out. The poor girl is wailing, collapsing to her knees, screaming and screaming, until her throat gives in, and her voice is lost. Rey watches the sight, feels her own heart tear at such a tormenting picture. Her throat grows sore, eyes pour with tears, and she almost drops her sabre in surprise.

  Effortlessly, tears pour, land at her feet, and she has to wipe her eyes so she can see. Rey tries to shake off whatever is wrong with her; why the girl’s feelings suddenly mirror her own. But she can’t stop crying. Rey clenches her jaw, and in a desperate attempt to relieve herself from the trauma, she turns away, walks away, as fast as her legs will carry her. Then she’s running. Running so fast her thighs ache and her chest heaves.

  The whiteness has no end. It is a chasm without an exit, without a door. Rey is trapped. 

  A body is behind her. She can feel him. Rey swivels round on her heel. Ben Solo is smiling, tragic and ruined, his face a scar. Rey touches her face. It is no longer wet; the crying has stopped. Ben Solo retrieves his light sabre, motions Rey to step forward, and he says something in a language she does not understand.

  Rey reacts when he whips his sabre at her. Her own sabre clashes into his. They pause, briefly, and then the two of them are lost in a maddening performance; their sabres meet over and over, but each time Rey tries to stab him, he disappears into dust, reappears again. She is fast, so much faster than he is, but Ben Solo smiles the whole time. And he can’t be defeated. He is insane, brilliantly insane and Rey is desperate to end his life. She has to. There isn’t any other way.

  For a moment, their battle reaches an interval, and Rey recalls Master Skywalker’s teaching. The power of emotions. While her rage is justified, she must _control_ it. The only skill she requires in order to defeat the Dark side is through _control_. The ability to stand up, make an independent decision, and do what is right.

  When Rey looks at Ben Solo again, she harbours her rage, her anger, her bitterness, and, magically, Ben Solo disappears. Gone. Rey tenses, uncertain whether he will reappear again, kill her while he can. She listens, carefully; uses all of her senses to inform her where he has gone to, but she is either blind, delusional or Ben Solo has truly left, because she cannot find him anywhere.

  ‘My baby girl.’

  Rey is held by her mother, and as much as Rey tries to turn and see her face, she can’t. She is wrapped in her mother’s warm, wonderful embrace, and the light sabre is sheathed, ready to be forgotten about. Rey opens her mouth to speak, to call out her mother, and the smile spreading over her face is devastating. Because, _yes_ , she is certain, convinced that her mother is finally here. Her mother has finally returned.

  ‘I am so _proud_.’

  And her mother’s arms pull away from Rey’s waist. Rey is no longer held, and she shudders at the freeze; the absence of her mother’s affection. Wide-eyed, she holds her breath and is finally able to move.

  It is her mother. She is sure.

  But it isn’t.

  Her mother’s face is a picture, a beautiful picture, but one Rey is not familiar with. Her face smiles, eyes brimming with love, and it distorts suddenly. Into the grinning shadow of Ben Solo, before returning to her mother’s softness. Rey gasps, steps back, and knows, deep down, that this puppet has to be destroyed.

  Ben Solo is fooling her to believe the body he possesses is of Rey’s mother. Of the people she loves most.

  ‘What’s the matter, darling?’ His face flashes, smirking, then back to her mother, and then to Finn, ‘Come here. I’ll make it all better.’

  Rey clutches her light sabre. Jessika appears before her, hands outstretched, hopeful and overjoyed to see her. 

  ‘I can ease the pain. I can help you. Let me help you.’

  A slash of deja vu passes Rey’s mind and her heart stops. She can’t kill Jessika. Her arm is immobile, and she stares at the girl, amazed, mortified, so, so confused. Jessika steps closer, closer still, and she’s reaching for Rey.

  The face looks identical to Jessika’s––they have to be one and the same!

  Rey exhales. Ben Solo’s face distorts Jessika’s loveliness, and Rey stiffens at the sight. Jessika’s face returns, and now her face has fallen. She is saddened, heartbroken Rey has not come to her yet. Distraught, upset that Rey has abandoned her, left her like this. Rey feels her throat narrow.

  ‘You silly girl,’ Jessika snarls. Her eyes darken. ‘No one will ever love you.’

  Rey is stunned into silence. 

  ‘You’re pathetic. You’re _heartless_. You are alone, and will always be alone, and you _like_ it that way. One day, you will die, and there won’t be a friend in sight who will pick up your corpse. You will be forgotten about. You’re nothing––just the same useless orphan you were all those years ago. Your mother left you, your friends have left you, and now you have nobody left. You are _alone_ , Rey. A disposable puppet.’

  Every word is a million knives in her heart. Rey can’t focus; her vision blurs with tears, and she is bombarded with the memory of being abandoned on Jakku, calling out to a ship which will never return. Of being trapped in the chains of Kylo Ren, tortured until her head began to bleed. Of walking away from her best friend, uncertain whether he will live or not.

  The very image of Jessika taunting her, grinning and scowling and––

  ‘I am not alone,’ Rey says. ‘And you are not my friend.’

  She soars forward, and her light sabre pierces Jessika’s stomach. Jessika gasps, and coughs out blood; Rey doesn’t look at her. She is being taunted, _lied_ to. This woman is not Jessika Pava, is nothing _like_ Jessika. Then, the image transforms, and a hand lands on Rey’s shoulder. She looks up at Ben Solo, glaring down at her.

  ‘You’re afraid,’ he breathes, ‘Afraid you will become like Darth Vadar.’

  Rey pulls the light sabre out of his stomach. Raises it over her head, and looks at him; and she is no longer afraid. Because Ben Solo is a child in her eyes, a misguided man, a pathetic, hopeless creature.

  And it all makes sense. Perfect sense.

  Rey controls herself. Her voice is focussed, calm: ‘I am Rey. That is all I shall ever be.’ Ben Solo’s smile drops, and his defeat is written in his eyes. Rey swipes her light sabre across his open neck, and the man falls to his knees.

  No guilt, no shame, no excitement reaches Rey; nothing, except the security of knowing her decision was the correct one to make.

  ‘You are ready,’ Master Skywalker says, suddenly beside her. ‘My final lesson has been taught.’

  Rey looks over to him, light sabre still in hand. ‘I am free?’

  ‘You have mastered the Force; you have been able to make decisions without the aid of your emotions.’ He smiles. ‘Go, my child, and finish what I could not.’

  Bring peace to a galaxy which has craved it for centuries.

  Rey awakens, and jolts upright. Sweat glistens across her forehead, and the entirety of the dream flashes in her mind. She turns her head, spots Master Skywalker seated not too far away. She expects words from him, expects him to ask what she dreamt about, but all he does is look at her. 

  And smile.

  He knows.

 

 

 

‘General? We have an unidentified ship heading this way.’

  It only takes one glance at the screen, and General Organa’s face lightens up. ‘That is a ship we know all too well.’ She turns to one of her soldiers. ‘Lieutenant, the _Millennium Falcon_ has returned. Make sure their landing goes ahead smoothly––and bring the pilot to me when she’s arrived.’

  ‘Yes, General.’ 

  Meanwhile, an enthusiastic Chewbacca is busy directing the ship, happy to be back after so many months. BB-8 shares his excitement, rolling from one end of the ship to the other. It makes a nice change from the droid’s disgruntlement at leaving R2-D2 behind with Master Skywalker on Jakku.

  Clearly word has spread about the _Falcon_ ’s return. A small crowd awaits them when they arrive. Chewie smoothly lands the ship, and lets our a quiet roar. He waits patiently for Rey to shrug on her jacket, to glance at the crowd forming. Amidst them, she searches for Finn, Poe or even Jessika, but neither of the three are present.

  Maybe that’s just as well. Rey isn’t quite prepared to tell them everything that has occurred. 

  ‘You go ahead, Chewie,’ she says, ‘I think the General has missed you.’ Chewie makes a curious noise, cocking his head to the side. Rey smiles. ‘I’ll follow. I promise. Go on. You too, BB-8.’

  Both of her companions settle on Rey’s decision, and escape the ship. Rey leans back in her seat, and is pleased that Chewie’s appearance has distracted the crowd away. BB-8 rolls in-between them all, and is quickly doted on. Now that the attention is no longer on the famed Jedi within, Rey is able to relax.

  Although she doesn’t leave the ship for a good hour. But after all of those months on Jakku, Rey isn’t really sure what purpose time now has. She has been gone for three months, not two weeks like she previously assumed. God knows what has happened, if everything is the same, if her friends are the same.

  That fear…

  Rey shakes her head. She is being irrational, stupid, doing exactly what Master Skywalker told her not to.

  ‘Not in the mood to say hello?’ General Organa has entered the ship, and walked up behind Rey’s seat. Rey smiles a little, watches the General sit down beside her. ‘How is my brother? He hasn’t come back?’

  Rey sympathises. ‘I asked if he would, but I don’t think he’s ready yet.’

  ‘Well, he can run away from his responsibilities, but he can’t hide forever.’ General Organa’s sighs. ‘I miss him.’ Him. Rey swallows. _Him… I miss Luke, I miss Ben. I miss Han._ She misses her boys, and Rey is cut. ‘I sensed you had struggled in Jakku. He must have been putting you through a lot of strain.’

  Rey blushes. ‘I forget your Force sensitive.’

  ‘I forget about it as well. But, sometimes, I hear his voice; talking to me. Short words. That he’ll come back––soon. Whenever _that_ is.’ General Organa decides to change the topic, ‘You must be tired, Rey. When you’re ready, leave this ship, and return to your friends. They have missed you.’

  ‘They have…?’

  ‘Very much so. Your friend, Finn, has given me an earache: can’t seem to stop talking about you.’ Rey grins at the thought of him. ‘Relieve me from his babbling and I’ll pay you back generously.’ The General stands. ‘I’m glad you’ve come back, Rey.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Rey replies. 

  It is all the assurance in the world that she needs, in order to take the next step.

 

 

 

She showers. Washes away the dirt, sweat, the dried blood; washes away the hot nights, restless sleeps; the monsters which lurk under her bed. Rey throws on a loose top, trousers, and, as always, keeps her light sabre strapped to her hip. It doesn’t take too long for Finn to discover where she is staying, and he walks in with a huge grin, and a marvellous piece of artillery over his shoulder.

  Before she can ask, he has pulled her into a tight cuddle, and she kisses his cheek. ‘You should really stop holding me that tight––you’ll suffocate me.’

  ‘Then you’ll miss it,’ Finn says. ‘You went away longer this time.’

  Rey’s smile quivers. ‘Sorry. I didn’t realise, until Master Skywalker––’ … _until he told me. Until he decided to reveal to me how much time had passed._ Rey inhales, ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah. More than okay! In fact, I’ve been spending a lot of my time getting to grips with this weapon.’ He slips the weapon off his shoulder, and hands it over to her. Rey takes it, surprised by how little it weighs. ‘The aim is brilliant, but careful: don’t shoot in close proximity to anyone, or you might get hurt yourself. It absorbs everything in its radius.’ He laughs excitedly. ‘I could protect so many people this way.’

  She glances up at him. Finn’s desire to protect, to save people, help people––she will always love that about him. Rey returns the weapon, ‘Where did you find this?’

  ‘I didn’t. That pilot, Jessika Pava, gave it to me.’

  ‘She did?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He shrugs. ‘Dunno why, but I think it was her way of apologising.’ He sniggers. ‘You’ve got some weird friends, Rey.’

  ‘Hm.’ Rey smiles to herself. Jessika. Looks at Finn, and punches him playfully. ‘You’re right. I do have weird friends, and you’re one of them.’

 

 

 

Most of the bunks are shared, and they tend to be small, confined rooms. Naturally they are avoided during the day due to the claustrophobic atmosphere, but some pilots enjoy the quiet, the isolation while they fill in reports. Sort out tedious paperwork. Very rarely do pilots have to fill in reports unless they have returned from a serious mission.

  Frankly, Jessika isn’t very good at writing up reports _anyway_ , and so she’s far behind. Considering the General has given her the evening off, she decides to do a little catching up. Which is easier said than done. Procrastination is one of Jessika’s many skills. Perhaps that comes naturally to being a pilot. Pilots are impatient, impulsive, and can’t stand sitting around doing nothing.

  She props herself on one elbow, picks up a toy ship she was given as a child. The paint has come off, and the metal has rusted over, but it still remains her favourite toy to date. She can recall the times as a child when she would run around the nursery, waving this daft thing about. Jessika makes a _whooshing_ noise as she glides the toy ship through the air.

  To her surprise, the toy is pulled from her hand by an invisible force. ‘What the––?’ Jessika tries to grab her toy, but it suddenly flies away towards the doorway. Jessika scowls, thinking this is some dumb prank, and is ready to give whoever a heated yelling, when she sees who her unexpected visitor is.

  It has been a while. A long while. Jessika blinks at Rey, who now holds her toy. 

  ‘I had a doll when I was younger. She was my best friend.’ Rey looks down at the toy, and smiles dreamily. ‘I always imagined her as a pilot. We were both pilots, searching for our lost ship on a deserted island.’ Rey raises her gaze to look at Jessika. ‘I left her behind on Jakku, and I really miss her.’

  Jessika blinks. She’s forgotten about her toy, because, now, the only thing that matters is Rey. Lovely, sweet, wonderful Rey, standing in her doorway, looking as innocent as she was the first day they met.

  ‘I really missed _you_.’

  Rey chuckles nervously at that. ‘Oh. That’s funny: I’ve never been missed before.’ She steps forward, and offers Jessika the toy ship back. ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about our argument, and I had to see you and––’ She pauses, ‘––are we still friends?’

  It’s bizarre, because Jessika had completely forgotten about their argument. Such an irrelevant, small thing, how could she remember? How could she remember when Rey has returned, with a _smile_ and a silly hope that they might still see eye-to-eye? Jessika hates how her heart is racing, hates how this is so hard, yet so easy. 

  She hasn’t felt this way before––not for a while at least.

  Jessika takes her toy, and then holds Rey’s hand. ‘I’ll always be your friend, Rey.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘Anyway, you’re too nice to walk away from.’ 

  Too nice to deny, to refuse; too perfect to criticise, to stay angry with. 

  ‘Besides,’ Jessika adds, a reluctance in her tone, ‘I would wait for as long as it took until you came back.’

  Rey’s breath catches. ‘You would?’

  Jessika shrugs, as if it’s nothing. ‘I’ve got nowhere else to be.’

_It is something to Rey._

  And Jessika can coat her words with whatever defence she likes, but Rey sees right through her. She sees that relief, that concern, that joy––and it’s all for Rey. Every element of it. Everything that Jessika is feeling right now, the very reason she’s still holding her hand, is for Rey.

  She would wait. For her, she would wait.

  ‘What?’ Jessika’s hardness softens, and she widens her eyes in worry. ‘Have I said something wrong?’

  Rey’s fingers delicately run across Jessika’s collar. The fabric is worn, old and ageing, yet soft on Jessika’s body. Rey could rest her head on that same fabric and fall asleep––happily. Rest her head on Jessika and feel the same way.

  ‘No; nothing wrong.’ 

  It’s almost instinct. Rey kisses Jessika. Once. Kisses her lips, presses up into her, and she waits, hovers there for a moment. They’re still, frozen, close together, and Jessika’s breath is warm when Rey retreats. A gentle air across her cheek. 

  There isn’t fear in her kiss, not this terror of the temporary; of the very possibility this all could be for nothing. 

  Rey kisses her, for the very sake of a kiss; a transparent confession.

 


	7. vii

Rey is barely given a days rest. The First Order have expanded their armies, and planets Rey hasn’t heard before are under threat of massive wipeout. Again. The men and women who walk those halls are vile; absolutely vicious, and they will stop at nothing. Platoons are arriving, landing their ships in forbidden territory; they are violating any form of treaty that might have once been shared.

  What she thought was a war hadn’t been a war at all. It has only just begun. D’Qar has shifted; a tremor is felt with each step. The Resistance has grown eery, tense; squadrons are sent out to patrol, to protect around the command centre. Keep an eye out for any wandering enemies, but it’s all paranoia. Protocol. This lurking terror of what has yet to come. Death, annihilation, runaways.

  Young teenagers are being taught the basics of marksmanship, combat, and even a few techniques on flight. They are keen, enthusiastic and they know the risks. It’s actually admirable how resilient they are, how obedient they are to their commanding officers. This isn’t a game; this is real. Mistakes can’t be made.

  It isn’t Master Skywalker who speaks to her anymore. He has done his duty. Whether or not Rey will meet him again, she isn’t sure. Instead, she hears a different voice. One she tries to ignore, but he is persistent, he is demanding and authoritative, and he won’t leave her. Kylo Ren is stronger than when they last met, considerably stronger; he has communicated with her for the past several hours, reminding her of what is at stake, why he had to kill his own father, and why Rey must follow him.

  She tries to tackle his words; uses the Force to silence him. Block his voice. Yet, he is abusing his power, and she is not––in a way, she doesn’t stand a chance against such a mad, corrupt man. But, somehow, she manages to meditate herself into a state of contentment. This is something Kylo Ren can’t thwart, and he eventually ceases. For now. Rey finds that when she is panicking, when she has lost control of her senses, that is when she is her most vulnerable; that he is when he strikes.

  Are you ready to kill? Are you ready to bring peace to the galaxy? Are you ready?

  Never. Rey has never been ready. She has never been given the _chance_ to be ready. Since birth, she has been pushed into a realm which is beyond her. Throughout her entire life, Rey has faced things so much greater than she, and, yet, she has still come out alive. A survivor. A warrior, whether she wears rags to robes.

  The sun has set, left a mark. Colours of pink, red and orange are splashed across the sky. A careless painter has lost control, and now the sky oozes with violent, yet gorgeous shades; the moon is startling, angry and bright. She looks up at it from where she sits, legs crossed. It hits her, the impossibility of ever being reunited with her family; a crush on her heart. Has the Empire already destroyed the planet in which they reside?

  Has Rey waited for a ghost all of these years? Wasted her entire life for something which will never happen.

  Rey senses somebody approach. Then, she can hear their footsteps. Light taps. A female presence. Rey turns her head, and watches Jessika come closer, one hand in her pocket. She stops a few inches from Rey. Doesn’t sit down. Rey likes her here. She inhales, settling into their silence. It is tranquil, kind, patient.

  ‘Why are you scared?’

  She’s surprised by that question. Surprised she’s that obvious. Unless Jessika simply knows. _Sees right through her_. 

  ‘I’m a Jedi––I don’t get scared.’ Rey smiles at the absurdity of her statement, and Jessika pulls a face.

  ‘That doesn’t mean anything to me. From my experience of Jedi, they are the most anxious.’

  ‘And how many Jedi have you known?’

  ‘Only one.’ Jessika pauses. Her other hand is shoved into her pocket, and she stands over her almost protectively. Rey feels safe. In such a long time, she genuinely feels safe and assured. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone.’

  Rey looks up at her. ‘What makes you say that?’

  Jessika just smiles. Offers her hand for Rey. ‘Come with me. It’s late, and you’re tired.’

  Hesitantly, Rey takes her hand, and stands to her feet. Jessika squeezes, only slightly, and escorts Rey towards the bunks. Rey recalls the previous time when she shared a bed with Jessika, how important it had been; to sleep with somebody else. To know that somebody was there to watch over her when night loomed.

  The room is empty. Jessika hasn’t shut the blinds yet. A helmet rests on the desk, and unfinished paperwork is scattered across the surface. Jessika turns to Rey, and speaks in a low whisper, ‘Will you tell me what you’re thinking about?’ Rey parts her lips, considers _what_ to reveal, because there is so much.

  If she were to tell Jessika about Kylo Ren, what would Jessika think? Would she look at her and tell her to get out? The fact Kylo Ren can enter her head, speak to her, it is frighteningly intimate and Rey hates the sensation. Hates the idea that Kylo Ren can harm her like that. That he can peel away her skull, _talk to her_ , and only her. 

  Jessika’s hands move to Rey’s grey jacket, and she starts to unbutton the material. Rey flinches, and Jessika grabs her wrist, stopping her from leaving. As if Rey would even want that––to leave. She’s suddenly conscious of the heat in her cheeks, her pulse. The amount of sensations flooding her body, overwhelmingly. 

  ‘I think my parents are dead,’ Rey whispers. 

  Jessika stops, her fingers half way from removing the next button. She smiles a little, sympathetic, understanding. ‘Do you know that?’ Rey doesn’t answer. Not immediately. She waits until Jessika has finished unbuttoning her jacket, and she allows Jessika to peel it away from her shoulders, let it fall to the floor. 

  The cold feels like pincers against her skin. Rey finds her voice: ‘I would have found them by now. I think I’m too late. I foolishly waited for them my whole life, and I never really considered that _I_ might need to be the one to search for them.’ She avoids Jessika’s eyes. ‘I never wanted to become a Jedi, none of this––I just…’ Rey exhales, ‘I just wanted to belong.’ To someone, to a place, to anything.

  To have purpose, meaning. 

  ‘You belong here. With us.’ Jessika kisses Rey’s jawline, arms coming around her waist. Rey gasps, and stiffens as Jessika kisses just below her earlobe. ‘We’re your family, Rey.’ She retreats slightly, enough to give Rey a moment, but not far enough for her to not feel her breath. Soft, shaky against her lips. Jessika brushes the back of her hand across Rey’s cheek. Rey trembles, and holds herself. ‘You poor girl.’

  Rey is kissed, and this kiss is nothing like the one she gave Jessika. This kiss is given confidently, with a sense of knowing; Jessika has done this before. Rey kisses her back in return, almost instinctively parts her lips at Jessika’s tongue. She’s conscious of Jessika’s palms pressing into her hips, accidentally bumping into her light sabre, passing over her stomach. 

  No Jedi training could have prepared her for any kind of intimacy, let alone what Jessika is offering. Rey is kissed passionately, and Jessika is gentle, her hands moving up to run through Rey’s hair, press securely against the back of her neck. Rey searches for something to hold on to, fingers curling into Jessika’s shirt; and she feels her smiling. It barely lasts, but it’s there, and it only makes Rey more aware of the emotions colliding within her.

  Rey retreats suddenly. She feels too much: the heat in her cheeks, the _thump_ of her heartbeat, how clumsily her hands shake, how her entire body is shuddering. And she can’t deny the throbbing sensation beginning to build below her abdomen. Rey exhales, finds Jessika’s line of gaze. 

  There are a million things to say. So much to say.

  But all that comes out is a shy: ‘I’ve never done this before.’

  Jessika blinks, and then laughs slightly. ‘I know.’ Her fingertips run down Rey’s arm to her wrist, ‘You don’t need to be scared.’ She kisses her lips, softer than before, allowing them a second to breathe, before kissing her again. _You don’t need to be scared_. Rey doesn’t need to be scared: not of her, not of _them_ , not of the war which is only lurking around the corner, not of Kylo Ren, not of anything.

  Here, right now, Rey is safe. 

  Everything will be okay.

  Rey pushes her mouth onto Jessika’s, finding her own balance, and they kiss deeply. Carefully, Jessika’s palms spread beneath Rey’s top, across her bare back. Rey lets out a little moan, pressing into her, her arms travelling around the back of her neck. She loves that. Loves how Jessika touches her, how warm her hands are; she loves _being touched_. Being held, held so wonderfully.

  It only requires some guidance, but they slowly strip away each other’s clothes, and the way Jessika’s body feels on Rey’s is enough to make Rey gasp. She is completely taken, so unaccustomed to such _closeness_. How she can feel Jessika’s naked breasts press into hers, how Jessika’s stomach feels, how her hips roll forward when she cuddles Rey beneath her. Rey can barely catch her breath, can barely focus; she feels lightheaded and amazing and tingling all over. And happy.

  Relieved. Yes, maybe _relieved_ is the word, but she can’t place it. 

  They meet in a long kiss, one which is reluctantly broken when Jessika moves further down Rey’s body. She kisses between her breasts, one hand coming up to gently massage one. Rey tenses, holds her breath, closes her eyes and sinks into the bed. Jessika kisses her breast, and then her other, lips meeting the faded scar across Rey’s abdomen, before propping herself up to look at Rey properly.

  ‘You’re so lovely,’ Rey murmurs, hardly hearing her own words.

  Jessika kisses the corner of her mouth. ‘Yeah? Well, you’re to _die_ for.’ 

  Perhaps it’s what she says, how she says it, how close she is, how Rey can suddenly feel _just_ how near she is, how they are wrapped up in each other, tied together, like a knot, incapable of being pried apart. Locked in an embrace Rey has no desire of every ripping free from. Perhaps it’s everything, because she holds Jessika’s face between her hands and kisses her, pulls her down, so they fit together, perfectly, without any spaces to separate them.

  Jessika’s lips are on her jaw, and she bites down softly, kissing her immediately afterwards; Rey’s eyes flutter closed, and she gasps again, fingertips pressing into Jessika’s waist. It is all alive, and real, and so _heavy_. Rey shudders, moans, and she stiffens at the touch of Jessika tenderly pushing her palm against her warmth. 

  Scrunching her eyes shut, Rey arches her back, gripping onto Jessika’s shoulder, her arm. Jessika is gentle, patient, and slow. And it is electric, like fire, burning and hot and so _good_ when her finger delicately rubs her clit. Rey’s chest heaves, and she tightens her hold on Jessika. They kiss, and it’s a brief pause in their lovemaking; one which gives Rey a second, allows her to breathe, to look at her.

  ‘Rey?’

  She whispers her name once, almost as if it were a confession, before lowering herself and continuing what she started. All the while, she is gentle, and Rey shivers and _takes_ her. Rey isn’t quiet, nor is she loud; she moans, gasps, and she’s wonderful. Beautiful and startling, and so much so, she leaves Jessika in awe.

  When Rey comes, she cries out, and Jessika holds her tightly until the trembling stops, until Rey is able to find herself again, and snuggle into her. Jessika kisses her forehead, and waits patiently for Rey to recover. They don’t speak; Jessika listens to Rey breathe, studies the rosiness of her cheeks. 

  ‘I don’t feel alone when you’re around,’ Rey whispers.

  ‘Then don’t leave me––so, you won’t feel that way again.’

  Rey meets her eyes, tries to smile. It’s broken, fractured but it’s all Rey. She never thought Jessika the type to be open about her feelings, so Jessika revealing this much––it’s a compliment. It’s a gesture. It’s an _important_ gesture which Rey will never take for granted. 

  They find each other, limbs tangled and lips locked, and Rey touches her; touches her until she’s breathless. Jessika pulls up the sheets over their naked bodies, and kisses Rey over and over, kisses her until Rey doesn’t have to fear anymore; when whatever waits doesn’t matter. When it is only them, and always them.

 

 

 

What she dreams of is a field of flowers. Of yellows, pinks, and blues, crowded around her, waving in the breeze. She is lost in a world which is entirely her own, and not a shade of darkness is after her; she is no longer the enemy’s prey. The chains have been taken, thrown off her wrists, and only scars remain.

  As she steps further and further into the field, she realises she is not alone. But it is not a motive which follows her, not an alternative. Not her own terror coming back to haunt her. What follows is a friend, a friend who reaches for her hand, kisses her fingertips; a friend who has found her, finally. 

  The next time Rey dreams of Jessika, nobody has to die.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This story will be drawing to a close soon, but I really have loved writing about these two. Please do leave kudos and/or a comment. I would really appreciate that. Until next time!


	8. viii

Spending her entire life in D’Qar, fighting with The Resistance, Jessika has learnt how gossip spreads among the inhabitants; work as a pilot can be very territorial and competitive. If there’s the slightest opportunity to make a ruin of somebody’s reputation, then no time is wasted. Therefore, not really just for her sake, but Rey’s as well, they separate for the remainder of the evening.

   Within minutes of Rey’s departure, Jessika’s bunkmate returns from her mission. Jessika isn’t in any mood to talk, and so rolls over onto her side, pretending to sleep. She hears her bunkmate strip off her jacket and collapse into bed, immediately gone as soon as her head hit the pillow.

   Jessika turns onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. The temperature has decreased considerably, and she shrugs on her top, before slipping the sheets over her body. It makes her realise just how warm Rey was, and it hurts a little. Not having her close. Jessika knows for a fact she won’t sleep. All she can think about is Rey, her cute smile, how good she felt, the noises she made when Jessika touched her.

When Jessika feels a familiar sensation build between her legs, she groans, carelessly throwing the sheets over her head. She’s not really sure if she’s been in love before. The whole thing has been so _childish_ to her, and in a time of war, who has the time to fall for anybody? Not to mention, Jessika isn’t a huge fan of _people_. Reserved, efficient and independent, she hasn’t necessarily needed friends.

   But now? She doesn’t want anybody else except Rey. Doesn’t want any other friend, doesn’t want to fight this war beside anybody else. This isn’t like the girls before. This isn’t a small tease, this isn’t one, single night; this could be a lifetime. Jessika could feel afraid about that, could resist these feelings.

   She sighs, slowly taking the sheets from her face. There are a _lot_ of things she could be, but a liar isn’t one. A little smile reaches her lips, and she thinks that whatever it is that she’s feeling isn’t so disastrous after all.

   Jessika’s thoughts are cut short when her transceiver crackles. Poe’s voice is heard, and he’s asking her to meet him; an unexpected mission has landed in their hands. Disgruntled, Jessika snatches her transceiver and leaves the bed.

 

 

 

‘Sorry,’ Poe says when she arrives, ‘Were you asleep?’

   Jessika fastens her jacket. Looks up at him. Snorts, ‘No.’ She grabs her helmet. ‘The General _did_ assure me that I had the night off, though.’

   ‘It’s morning,’ Poe says. Surprised, Jessika gives him a look. ‘It’s nearly seven. You all right?’

   Has it really been that long? Jessika clears her throat. ‘I’m fine. Just––didn’t get any sleep.’ Poe frowns, concerned, to which Jessika quickly pulls on her gloves, and walks past him. ‘We gonna get on with our job or what?’ Only a fool would argue, so Poe decides to delay his worry, and enter the ship with her. 

   Jessika adopts the role of co-pilot, and helps Poe start the ship. Once settled, they escape the base, and are on their way. Their mission is tediously simple––a whole load of supplies are waiting to be picked up on a nearby planet, but, aware of The First Order’s approaching danger, General Organa didn’t want Poe to go alone.

   Many times they have travelled together. Plus, it’s early, so they’re not feeling chatty. Jessika leans back in her seat. The ship is still as it soars through space, but it’s cosy, and comforting. Jessika is safe, and she’s always loved flight. However, for the first time in her life, she would rather be on ground.

   For one obvious reason.

   ‘What did you do?’

   Jessika starts. ‘What?’

   ‘You’re only this quiet when you’ve done something wrong,’ Poe smirks. Jessika glares at him. ‘Ah, c’mon. You can tell me.’

   ‘I don’t know where the idea that you’re my therapist came from, but you’re the _last_ person I would tell.’

   Poe takes offence to that. ‘Well, that’s not very nice.’

   Jessika rolls her eyes. Fiddles with her glove. Wisely, Poe decides not to delve into the subject anymore. She watches his hands delicately play across the controls. The way Poe directs a ship is always fragile, as if the ship itself were alive. His to look after. Jessika has always admired his level of empathy, the amount he cares.

   That is something she has tried to avoid, and, for the most part, she has avoided it successfully. But when Rey kissed her, that first time––even _before_ then, Jessika has felt that empathy, that need to care about somebody. When Rey left for several months, Jessika had been alone. A lot of the time, she was alone, and it only made her realise how often she and Rey had spent together.

   And then… and then, Jessika was kissed, and she was so _drawn_ to her. It was intoxicating, it was so lovely; Rey kissed her so sweetly, so hesitantly. So new and uncertain about all of this, it only made her all the more endearing. 

   Really, Jessika had no idea what she was doing when she guided Rey back to her bunk. Kissed her, eased Rey into her, touched her and _loved_ her. The corner of Jessika’s lips curl into a scowl. She can’t believe herself. So much for reserved. So much for remaining emotionally unattached. So much for seeing Rey as _not one of them_. 

   Poe is watching her. Jessika turns away completely. She can _feel_ Poe smiling. 

   She had hated it when Rey left. When, afterwards, they lay, wrapped in each other’s arms, kissing softly and whispering nothings, before Jessika realised this wasn’t a good idea. Rey had to go, and Rey knew she had to go. And it was hard. Because, after all of that, they still had to sleep alone.

   Throat narrowing, Jessika distracts her thoughts. They’ve nearly arrived at their destination. Once they land, Jessika tells Poe to stay with the ship; she will collect the supplies. In less than thirty minutes, Jessika returns. A small alien boy helps Jessika pile in the cargo, she pays him a few scraps as a tip, and then they’re on their way back to base. Simple stuff, easy stuff, and Jessika hearts skips a beat.

   What now? What now between her and Rey?

   What about the war…?

   Poe is cheerfully manoeuvring the ship when she looks at him. And it sorts of _bursts_ out.

   ‘I slept with Rey.’

   Poe stiffens. Blinks. ‘ _Oh_.’

   ‘Yeah,’ Jessika mutters, fiddling with her gloves again.

   ‘Wow.’

   ‘Mhmm.’

   Poe’s hands slip from the controls. He chuckles, shaking his head. ‘Thank God,’ he breathes. Jessika raises a brow. ‘I was genuinely scared that something _bad_ had happened and that was why you were acting odd.’

   ‘And this _isn’t_ bad?’

   ‘Is it bad?’ Poe shrugs. ‘As long as you don’t hurt her, it’s not _bad_.’ He smiles to himself. ‘Finn tells me about her sometimes. Or, as much as Rey tells him. I doubt it’s easy living a life alone––you become unfamiliar with basic human niceties. It’s heartbreaking.’

   Jessika feels warm, feels her expression fall. Pries her gaze to the window. She had gathered all of that. Rey’s unfamiliarity with human niceties. Human _touch_. How nervous she was at first, how timid she had been. Still, hearing it all from somebody else just makes Jessika feel closer to Rey all the more.

   It is heartbreaking. It _does_ break her heart.

   ‘Don’t hurt her, Jess. That’s all I ask.’

   Jessika smiles at him. ‘I wouldn’t dream of doing that.’ Certainly not now. Certainly not Rey. ‘Dameron?’

   ‘Yeah?’

   ‘Tell anybody about this then I’ll silence you permanently.’

   ‘You got it,’ Poe grins.

 

 

 

It can be fairly tricky to find somebody at the base, it’s so large. Jessika helps unload the cargo, and once Poe informs her he can take it from here, she goes in search of Rey. It’s already late afternoon. Time in space is slow in comparison to time on the ground. Something a lot of pilots have struggled to adapt to, and even fail at.

   Jessika finds Rey with General Organa. The two are speaking in hushed voices, leaning over a map across the table. Jessika notices the light sabre hanging from Rey’s waist, and a sense of dread captures her. Jessika isn’t the only one today who has been sent on a mission. Whether Rey’s is a short one, Jessika isn’t sure.

   Stepping into the room, a colleague waves to her, but she’s too distracted on the light sabre, the map, whatever General Organa is agreeing on. Thanks to Jedi senses, Rey swiftly turns to face Jessika as soon as she enters. And Jessika is offered a smile she will never get tired of. Excited and adoringly childish. 

   A smile she would only share if there was good news. 

   ‘Master Skywalker has asked me to join him at The Jedi Temple.’ Jessika proceeds over to her. At the mention of Skywalker, and then The Jedi Temple, Jessika can’t help the panic rising. ‘I am being summoned,’ Rey doesn’t reveal much more than that but she doesn’t need to. 

   Summoned. Jessika knows so very little about The Jedi Temple, but she’s heard the myths about old, wise Jedi who appear at the Temple. Ghosts. Fragments of a lost history. If what Rey says is true, then this could bring The Resistance one step closer to defeating The First Order. 

   They are Jedi who could teach and reveal to Rey things Master Skywalker hasn’t touched on in his entire life. They could aid her to ridding Kylo Ren, ending his corruption of the Dark Side, and return him home to his mother. Rey has completed her training to become a Jedi Knight.

   Now, she must pass the last and final step. Meet the Jedi before her, gain their wisdom, be told the history of the Jedi, the empire which has attempted to destroy them all of these centuries. 

   Jessika knows Rey won’t come back. Not this time. She’ll meet Master Skywalker, enter the Temple, and, as it’s always been, Rey’s fight is separate to General Organa’s. She’s still alone, still very much isolated from the armies which blossom around her. Rey is a Jedi, and she no place here.

   Her destiny lies elsewhere.

   Jessika says nothing. She feels sick, hollow, and she waits patiently for General Organa to finish their discussion, before departing quietly. Rey is still excited, and Jessika tries to be excited for her, but she’s not sure what to be excited about. To think, Jessika held Rey in her arms a little over twelve hours ago, and now Rey is leaving?

   ‘I’m sorry,’ Rey says, ‘I should have waited a bit, until telling you.’

   ‘No, it’s good I know,’ Jessika replies. She pulls off her gloves. ‘I was beginning to forget the real reason you are here.’ She hates how Rey reacts to that. As if Jessika had slapped her, as if Jessika _intended_ to cut Rey. Jessika’s breath catches, and she steps closer. ‘That wasn’t fair,’ she admits reluctantly.

   Rey forgives her, of course; she’s too kind. ‘I went looking for you this morning.’

   ‘I had been ordered to collect some supplies.’ She drops her gaze to Rey’s lips, then back to her eyes. ‘Are you okay?’

   Neither are really sure why Jessika’s question has such an impact. Perhaps it’s the vagueness––okay about _what_? Okay about leaving, okay about life generally, okay about _this_? Or, maybe it’s more than that. Deeper. Are _we_ okay? After what happened, after what’s inevitably about to happen, will they be okay?

   Will Rey be okay?

   And that’s just it. Rey’s health, safety, everything about her––it has become so central to Jessika, the poor girl isn’t sure how to handle the truth. 

   ‘I’m okay,’ Rey smiles softly. 

   Not many people ask Rey that question in the first place. They’ve introduced each other to new concepts; new, yet _domestic_ gestures of affection, and it’s foreign to them. Yet lovely. There is nothing unpleasant about any of this.

   Jessika isn’t keen on them standing in public eye. She takes Rey’s hand and guides her to somewhere a little more private. Fortunately, her bunkmate is, once again, absent. Closing the door, Jessika does what she has wanted to do the entire day: she takes Rey by the collar, and kisses her. 

   ‘I really missed you,’ she confesses, their lips meeting again. She’s bewildered by Poe’s concern in this moment; the very idea that Jessika would abandon this sweet, wonderful girl who carries the entire galaxy on her shoulders. And expects nothing in return. 

   Loving Rey is easy; frighteningly easy, and Jessika fears it might not be _she_ who leaves first.

   They cuddle. Rey feels wonderful pressed against Jessika’s body; the pilot tightens their embrace, and earns a kiss on the cheek. Rey figured out something is wrong, something has unsettled her newfound lover, and, naturally, it unsettles her as well. From what she’s learnt about Jessika, she’s aware she’s not the type to confess everything to her in one go. Jessika is reserved and proud.

   So Rey kisses her, hard on the mouth, and says, ‘I have to.’

_I have to go, I have to leave, I have to_ **_keep going_ ** _, even when I can’t go on anymore. I have to._

   And Jessika is well aware of that kind of determination. The ability to keep pushing through, no matter what; even if it _tears_ her apart. 

   Together, they lay opposite each other on the bed, kissing and not kissing, and when Jessika’s hand touches the light sabre, she feels tempted to grab the wretched thing and throw it into the wall. It would go against the very fibre of her being, but she almost wants to just _run away_ from this war, just grab Rey’s hand, and flee. 

   So what? So what if they find themselves a place to hide, on a moon far away? So what if they return to the life Rey once had, scavenging through abandoned ships, ruined vehicles, the clothes of corpses, searching for food, money, anything. Because maybe that life would be okay, that kind of life would be wonderful, because then they would have each other. Just the two of them.

   The tips of Rey’s fingers passes Jessika’s lips, and Jessika realises Rey can hear her wandering thoughts. She is aware of Jessika’s fantasy, the silly idea that they could steal a ship, be runaways. It’s romantic and dull and pathetic, but Jessika can’t _stand_ the idea of them being apart, even it’s in good reason.

_I wish I knew you when I was a child._

   Rey doesn’t voice this, but Jessika hears her words. They flow into her mind, like a calm wave, and settle. Jessika kisses the corner of her mouth. Pauses. ‘No, you don’t. I was a brat.’

   ‘Was…?’

   Jessika cocks a brow at Rey’s grin. ‘Funny.’ Rey wraps her arms around Jessika’s waist, and snuggles into her. They lie like this for what seems hours, and despite her impulsivity, despite her lack of patience, Jessika could lie this way for years. With Rey, times just _ceases_. With Rey, there’s always something to smile about, something to laugh at.

_‘Rey,’ Poe had answered. ‘That’s her name. Like a ray of sunshine.’_

   Now it makes sense. Why Poe wouldn’t see Rey as anything less––she is like sunshine. Warm, bright, _happy_. 

   ‘Take me with you.’

   Rey tenses in her arms. It only encourages Jessika to hold her more securely. 

   ‘Let me take you to Anch-To.’ An impulse. Spontaneous. Irrational. All the traits only a decent pilot possesses, and the very reason why such decent pilots barely live long. ‘I’ll fly with you, Rey.’

   A part of her expects the worst. Rey will tell her _no_. It’s too dangerous. This is a task only _she_ can handle. Jessika can’t come with her, can’t fight with her; they can’t be together, not now. Not yet.

   But, she forgets Rey is a pilot as well.

   Impulsive. Spontaneous. Irrational.

   Driven by passion and a love for life.

   Rey reaches to kiss her, to smile, run her fingers through Jessika’s hair, and hold her gaze.

   ‘I always imagined I’d fight this war alone,’ Rey whispers. _As she always has been: alone_. Because that’s all she’s ever known, all she’s ever been given. ‘But I’ll have a friend with me.’ This statement causes the air to stir between them, and Rey watches Jessika’s eyes betray her momentarily. A shadow of grief. She shares Rey’s pain, shares her love and Rey’s heart soars. ‘And I’m glad that friend is you.’

   They wait, wait for the second to pass.

   Rey smiles, and her pilot smiles back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just throwing in the headcanon that due to Jedi senses~ a Jedi can speak to somebody they're intimate with via thoughts. Hence Jessika and Rey doing the same thing. 
> 
> I decided to leave the story here. This story was more focussed on Rey fighting against the Dark side, and her relationship with Jessika. Without a doubt, she will still be tempted, but having friends on the Light side will be good for her. She'll be reminded as to why the Light side is right. And I think that's something Aanakin wasn't allowed to have. The Jedi Order refused him, or any Jedi, to fall in love, to have a constant companion. What with Luke coming along and correcting this genuine flaw, it allows Rey to be human, which will, in turn, help her to decide which path is best.
> 
> Anyway, the thought of these two going on an adventure together thrills my shippy heart.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. I _might_ write a sequel, but we shall see. Please do share your thoughts! 
> 
> Until next time!


End file.
